A COW-HAND'S PRAYER

Lord, save me from the stench of city streets Where men must toil to earn their daily bread. Give me clean air that comes from snow-clad peaks,

Filtered thru golden sunshine and the dew, Give me long, rolling sweeps of bunch-grass, hills, Where cattle fatten for the city mart.

Give me the pungent scent of rain-drenched sage,

A boisterous wind that whistles thru the trees. Give me the music of the lowing herd,

The bawling of the calves in branding pen,

Give me a willing horse between my legs,

Companionship of loyal friends, though few.

Give me a home where loved ones nightly gather In sweet communion, free from quile or sham.

And when my time shall come to cash my checks, I pray that you may find my record clear, For I have served thee Lord, as best I could

With the only creed I knew, the Golden Rule. So let me rest high on some rocky hill,

Where I may keep eternal vigil still My only requiem the coyote's yelp. The meadow-lark's melodious trill.