With a cowboyish grin an’ a lift of my chin,
I reach for my new lariat:
I’ll head down the path, ti’ ketch thet new calf,
Afore thet old sun’s gonna set.
Thet makes it eleven, leaving ‘bout seven
Thet are yit a plannin’ ti calve;
I’m gonna snag ‘er, and clamp down thet tagger,
A semblance of order I have.
This here cowboy life, is ti’ lieviate strife;
It’s about fresh air, ‘es I bring in the hay.
Naw, it ain’t the money, (Ha, ha, thet’s funny)
‘Cause, friend, cowboyin’ don’t pay.
So I slave an I sweat, an’ nothin’ I get
‘Cept muck water a fillin’ mi’ boots;
But I’ll keep on goin’, I’m happy just knowin’
I hark back to the old cowboy roots.
Swat I wanted ti’ be, when I grew hup, yi’ see,
An’ tho I’ll niver be the gen-u-ine thing;
A Rhinestone cowboy is all, as life’s summer turns fall
Bud it’s enough ti’ make mi’ heart sing!
So hang ti’ yer dreams, when all else it seems
Ti’ go kilter an’ turn hup side down,
It’s dreams keep yi’ goin’, thet keeps thi’ juice flowin’
An keeps thi’ ole’ man frum “movin’ ti’ town”.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem