Old Ranger

Old Ranger

He said he was tired, as he laid back to rest
He fondled the watch fob that hailed from his vest
His boot’s creaked with age, but were shiny and clean
And his old beaver Stetson, had an uncanny gleam

He was a high roller, Lord he loved to shine
Gold rings on his fingers, and ladies by his side
Said he loved them in spite of their high headed ways
And it’s sure getting harder to hold them these days

Now he told me stories, of old bygone days
Of horses and wagon’s and men on the range
About mules that were stubborn and trails, long gone cold
Those old glory days, when a handshake was gold.

Oh his blue eyes they sparkled, whenever he spoke
About good hearted people, and other old folk
All the ones that remembered those old bygone day’s
Of horses and wagons and men on the range

Now he was a ranger, and he wore a star
Said he was never the best one by far
But I’s there on the day, when old Poncho fell
Rode with Teddy’s Rough Riders, up old San Juan Hill

When whiskey flowed free, back when men wore a gun
When he’d have to take out for a man on the run
Across burning hot deserts and High Mountain ranges
Raging white rivers, the stories the same.

Because he was a ranger and he wore a star
Always said he was never the best one by far
But I’s there on the day when old Poncho fell
Rode with Teddy’s Rough Riders, up old San Juan Hill
Rode with Teddy’s Rough Riders, up old San Juan Hill

Augustus Clay