Six-String Guitar

Here's my stab at writing a cattle drive song. It's called:

Six-String Guitar

By Tracy Farr

Me and my pony are riding out west,
We’re headed for Ft. Worth, gonna buy me the best
Little six-string guitar that my money can buy,
Get along, little doggies, get along.

They say I was born in a wild winter storm
My mother did bundle me up to keep warm,
With a blanket of wool and a buffalo hide.
Pa did his best keeping wood on the fire.

My mother she’d sing me to sleep every night
She’d sing me of cowboys, such sweet lullabies,
Of the trails they did ride o’er the mountains and plains.
Pa drank his coffee and fiddled while she sang.

Me and my pony are riding out west,
We’re headed for Ft. Worth, gonna buy me the best
Little six-string guitar that my money can buy,
Get along, little doggies, get along.

I was raised in the saddle, I was raised wearing spurs,
I was raised roping cattle and tending the herd.
I had me some schoolin’ like all children do,
I learned how to read and to write my name, too.

I went on my first drive when I was just twelve,
Rode two hundred miles on the ole Western Trail.
We cowboy’d all day and we hit the hay late,
But Cookie made sure we had beans on the plate.

Me and my pony are riding out west,
We’re headed for Ft. Worth, gonna buy me the best
Little six-string guitar that my money can buy,
Get along, little doggies, get along.

I don’t drink much whiskey, I much prefer beer,
I cuss just a might ‘cept when women are near.
When I promise to do something, I see it through
‘Cause that’s what a good, honest cowboy should do.

I don’t know how long I’ll be riding these trails,
I hope just as long as all horses have tails,
But if I do meet a pretty gal dressed in pink
I’m chuckin’ my saddle and my spurs in a wink.

Me and my pony are riding out west,
We’re headed for Ft. Worth, gonna buy me the best
Little six-string guitar that my money can buy,
Get along, little doggies, get along.

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