Early each morning,
After my chores are done,
I saddle my horse,
Ride into the sun.
Over West Texas trails,
Got a ten gallon hat,
Spurs on my boots,
Follow old railroad rails,
I'm back in the saddle,
Back to my roots.
Feet locked in the stir-ups,
With my ole cowboy boots.
Goldie, my horse is gentle and tame,
Ride her easy, don't want her lame.
Stop for a drink, at the mouth of a brook,
Dismount from my saddle,
Take in a long look.
Mountain tops covered with snow on a ridge,
Amazed at the workmanship of an old wooden bridge.
A gentle breeze brings such a sweet zest,
Just me and Goldie,
Its really the best,
Riding the dusty old trails,
In the Wild, Wild, West.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem