TROUGH THE GREY FROSTY DAWN, EVERY COLD WINTER¡¯S MORN,
|
ROLLED THIS LAD FULL OF LIFE AND JOY.
|
EVERYDAY JUST THE SAME, DOWN THE ROAD WHERE HE CAME,
|
HE WAS KNOWN AS THEIR OWN SADDLE BOY.
|
IN HIS YOUTH FREE FROM STRIFE, HE WAS CALLED FROM THIS LIFE,
|
FROM THE SORROWS OF LIFE'S HIGHWAY.
|
HE WAS NEEDED ABOVE AT THE HOMESTEAD OF LOVE,
|
FOR THE LAST FINAL ROUND OF SOME DAY.
|
NOW THE SAD WILLOWS WAVE ON A COLD SILENT GRAVE,
|
WHERE THE TALL GRASSES BEND AND BOW.
|
AND THE JACKASS'S LAUGH IS THE ONLY EPITAPH,
|
ON THE GRAVE OF THIS BRAVE SADDLE BOY.
|
|
AT THE SCHOOL HOUSE ON THE RISE, TEACHER ALWAYS WATCHED THE SKIES,
|
FOR THE STORM CLOUD THAT GROWS LIKE THORN,
|
YOU¡¯VE A LONG WAY HE SAID, SO YOU¡¯D BETTER GO AHEAD,
|
SADDLE UP SADDLE BOY RIDE FOR HOME.
|
HE HAD TEN MILES TO RIDE, THROUGH THE DARK COUNTRYSIDE,
|
AS THE STORM ALL AROUND RAGED ON.
|
JUST ONE CREEK LEFT TO CROSS, STRUCK BY DRIFTWOOD BOY & HORSE,
|
SWEPT AWAY BY THAT MAD RAGING STORM.
|
|
AND THE LIGHTNING OVERHEAD, SHOWED THE LAST SANDY BED,
|
WHERE THE BOY AND THE PONY LAY.
|
AN OLD BOUNDARY RIDER TROY, WAS THE ONE WHO FOUND THE BOY,
|
AND WHO TOOK SADLY MESSAGE THE NEXT DAY.
|
AND THE OLD PEOPLE SAY, OF THE LONG NIGHTS IN MAY,
|
WHEN THE WIND IN THE VALLEY ROAMS,
|
POUNDING HOOF BEATS THAT SOUND, THROUGH THE TALL TIMBER LAND, IS THEIR OWN
|
SADDLE BOY RIDING HOME.
|
|
-----------------
|
Saddle Boy
|
| Kasey Chambers |
