A Cowboy Horse Dream (Walking To Portland)

I am an old cowboy, way out on the plains It's a hundred and ten, don't remember the

rains And my horse is so tired, and his knees look

all sore He struggles to carry me, up hills anymore

And we can't find no water And the grasses are gone

The rivers are dry All we feel is the sun

So we're walking to Portland Where the weather is mild

Hope my horse makes it Next 200 miles

Where we thought there was water, there was none up ahead.

Dare not get on his back, as he hangs down his head.

So we keep on our walkin', but he's stumblin' more.

At least it's downhill now, gets cool around four.

The vultures are circling, and the wild dogs ain't shy.

Might not make the morning, to say cowboy goodbyes.

And we'll walk into Portland, through a cool August night.

He'll get us to water, before it gets light.

I am an old cowboy, riding up true to gorge, on the back of my horse, who just saved us

once more.

We're both so damn tired, but we no longer fear, just a few short flat miles, to a hay

Where we'll hang up the saddle, put the gun in a drawer, pick up that old banjo, buy food

from a store.

So we're walking to Portland, where the pastures are green, chill out our days, as was always

our dream.

Yet to chill out our days, it's a cowboy horse dream.