It's mighty strange,
being out there with endless vision.
Does he know what he's missing?
He saddles up,
gets on up and put the boot to the side.
Why does it feel like all he does is hide?
Avoiding the rat race,
doesn't care for the pace.
The life of the man in an office,
Only he knows why he loves this.
No one at home,
not leaving anyone alone.
Nothing to tie him down,
he is all smiles and rarely a frown.
The days in chute,
almost left him a mute.
Chasing the points,
paying the entry.
Nothing to show,
all but empty.
The only thing he chases is the straggling cow,
he is the only he has to pay now.
He is living in peace,
hoping it will never cease.
He beds down and falls asleep,
he has no one in which he needs to weep.
Because he is alone.
On the range,
to some that would be strange.