Ya see it all around ya,
with each new fad or craze—
cowboy life is dyin’,
it’s the passin’ of an age.

No roundups talked about no more,
or dusty cattle drives,
no chuck wagon a followin’
keepin’ young drovers alive.

No brandin’ days on the prairie,
or in the old corral,
no bunkhouse for the hired help
where they swap stories with a pal.

An’ way up in the mountains
there stood an ol’ line-shack
where fellas stayed to gather steers,
an’ to the ranch bring back.

No buckin’ broncs for cowboys
to saddle up an’ tame.
Seein’ ‘em in some rodeo,
well, it just ain’t the same.

Pitch fork hayin’ in summer
so ya got your winter feed,
just ain’t done real often now—
machines have filled the need.

An’ cowboys wearin’ cell phones,
I never seen the like.
Goin’ to school to learn to ranch?
W’y, I knew how from a tyke.

It’s a changin’ world they tell me,
but, doggone it just the same,
I like bein’ called “Cowboy”
along side my given name.

Yep, ya see it all around ya
with each new fad or craze—
cowboy life is dyin’,
it’s the passin’ of an’ age.

Tamara Hillman
©2011