Well, Lord, I’m getting’ up in years and soon you’ll call me home. So now I hope you’re listenin’ while I kneel here all alone.
Don’t know much ‘bout Heaven ‘cept what Mother rightly taught. And I ain’t got much to offer. You kinda got me in a spot.
‘Cuz Mother said there’s lots of singin’, praisin’ to your name. But if I tried to hum a hymn, well, Sir, I’d be fair game!
I’ve never strummed a harp or even gazed a music sheet. So if that’s where I’m headed, this won’t be no cowboy treat.
But I’ve been thinkin’, if I’m gonna be there for a while, maybe there is somethin’ that’s a little more my style.
I’ve had my share of failures with my so-called jobs in town. But when it comes to horses, my successes are well-found.
My father taught me all he knew of a horse’s sheer beauty. A family’s deep tradition that was passed along to me.
So, there oughta be a few old crowbait horses on the loose. Maybe they need rounded up, then put ‘em to good use.
You see, a horse needs tendin’. If they’re left to run around, they might take off a runnin’ and who knows could be Hellbound.
We wouldn’t want the doggone devil stealin’ our horseflesh. Let’s keep ’em there in Heaven, ‘cuz Heaven and Hell don’t mesh.
I’ll get to know each horse and will account for every head. And one thing is for certain, they for danged sure will get fed.
We’ll always have some tame ones to explore out on the trail. My cowboy friends and I will always ride ’em without fail.
Lord, I’m askin’, cut me slack. Reach out to all your sources. This kinda job is meant for me. Please let me tend the horses.
