Thar's some durn thunder in the east
and it shore looks like rain.
It ain't too safe fer man nor beast
when it pours on this plain.
Them gully washers come so quick,
there ain't time to prepare;
and many times my life's been spared
by not more than a hair.
I ponder why I've lived so long
while others came and went.
I don't suppose has much to do
with how my life was spent.
Truth is, I've never been no saint,
though I've been mostly good;
I've always tried to do my best
to do the things I should.
At times I stumbled and I fell,
but always rose again.
There's always horses to round up
or little calves to pen.
I guess I best stop pondering
and get to higher ground,
or when the sun comes up again
I'll no more be around.