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| Echoes
Listen my friend and you shall hear, the echoes down the canyon as they draw near, The cries, the yips the hoof beats, the echoes off the wall The whispers of the wild that beckon one and all. You may not see them now my friend, you may not know their face, But you can hear them calling, for you to take your place, Among the valleys and mountains, among the sage and the trees, Among the men before you. Can you hear it in the breeze? Close your eyes and listen, then grab your saddle and your chinks, For they are riding in to take you to the brink. They ride hard for yesterday, so tomorrow won't forget The call of the wild. They have no regret. They gather, sort, they work until the last, They dally up and drag them or they tie hard and fast, The Cowboy or Vaquero it don't matter the names For that blood runs thick and it courses through your veins. You've been fighting it a long time, standing against the wind. Knowing you were different from those who transcend. And as you listen to the echoes. I can see it on your face, You are where you belong as the wind whispers a trace, Of hooves, horns and rawhide, the horses and the steers, All that you stand for, the blood sweat and tears. When in a lonely night you feel you want to cry, When darkness smothers you and you thing you want to die Just listen for the echoes, hear them calling you . Know that you are among the best in all that you do. Think of those before you who rode tall and bold Think of what they stood for, the freedom that you hold. Then grab your saddle and your chinks when you hear that distant call The hooves, horns and horses when you hear the cattle bawl. Then you will know why you stand for freedom, you'll know why you stand for pride, You'll know why each morning you saddle up and ride. So listen my friend and you shall hear, The echoes down the canyon as they draw near. For that thunder in the distance, it's not the hint of rain. It's the past riding for you and it's calling your name. © A. K. Moss |
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