THE WADDIE
Never gets the best of horses,
Yet welcome, just the same.
Hired for just a few days or weeks,
Always easy to blame.
Puts his shoulder to the grindstone.
A top hand, on foot or horseback.
A wanderin’ man, I guess you’d say,
But he’s ready to take up the slack.
He’s just known as the waddie,
A title some look on with shame.
Although, to him, it doesn’t much matter;
To some, he’s a bum, just the same.
Proud of his cowboy profession,
But cursed with a wandering foot.
He loves those horses and cattle,
Just seems he can’t never stay put.
A teepee or camper for roof top,
Or sometimes his roll on the ground.
He’s footloose, not nailed down to nothin’,
But it don’t keep him from sleepin’ right
sound.
First class at ropin’ and ridin’,
The best at workin’ a steer.
Yet gentle a colt with the touch of a hand,
This cowboy can sure pack the gear.
But just when you think you’ve got im’ pegged,
Wired and all tied down.
He’ll walk up and quietly ask for his time,
Roll his bed without makin’ a sound.
Back out on to the highway,
Not runnin’ to or from.
Just chasin’ a dyin’ cowboy dream,
Into the settin’ sun.
Bill McKay