The Wild West.
I jump on my horse old lucky.
We take to the hills along the trails.
Across the plains, we do ride. Like wind high in the trees, I do see.
We ride for hours without a worry.
For we are in no real hurry.
Across the wild west, I do ride with the most pride I do have.
Then wouldn't you know it had to come.
Mom yell, ' dinner get off that rock n horse
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem