The Biblical Cowboy

I wash in a pool and wipe on a sack;

I carry my wardrobe all on my back;

For want of an oven I cook bread in a pot,

And sleep on the ground for want of a cot.

My ceiling the sky, my floor is the grass,

My music is the lowing herds as they pass;

My books are the brooks, my sermons the stones;

My parson the wolf on his pulpit of bones.

And then, if cooking is not complete,

You can't blame me for wanting to eat.

But show me a man that sleeps more profound

Than the big puncher-boy stretching out on the ground.

My books teach me ever consistence to prize,

My sermons that small things I should not despise;

My parson remarks from his pulpit of bones

That fortune favors those who look out for their own.

And then between me and love lies a gulf wide:

Some lucky fellow may call her his bride.

My friends gently hint I am coming to grief,

But men must make money and women have beef.

But Cupid is always a friend to the bold,

And the best of his arrows are pointed with gold.

As society bans me, so savage I dodge,

And the Masons would ball me out of their lodge.

If I had hair on my chin I might pass for the goat

That bore all the sins in the ages remote;

But why it is I cannot understand,

That each of the patriarchs owned a big brand.

Abraham emigrated in search of a range,

And when water was scarce he wanted a change;

Old Isaac owned cattle in charge of Esau,

And Jacob punched cows for his father-in-law.

He started in business way down at bed rock,

And made quite a stake at handling stock;

Then David went from night-herding to using a sling;

And winning the battle he became a great king;

Then the shepherds, while herding the sheep on a hill,

Got a message from heaven of peace and good will.