Stale Piece of Pie 

Sometimes life is a stale piece of pie

Sometimes people only think of “I”

Sometimes all I get are the crumbs

Sometimes I just sit and twiddle my thumbs

All I get are leftovers, dried out tired remnants

I want to make you a coat of cement

I should be happy with what I got

But I’m not! 

“Broken hearts and dogs that die”

Broken hearts and dogs that die

Lonely days and men that cry

Seems to be the theme of most

All Cowboys who play a tune, or sing, or boast

But it was never sadness or tragedy endured

That called those men to the west or cajoled them or lured

So why sing of the horse with the rock stuck in his shoe?

Is it so hard to croon of meadows damp and sparkling with silver dew?

Why do Cowboys think each tale should be loaded with distress?

 Writing or singing of happy days does not make a story less

To capture listening ears who said the story must be sad?

Or demand you tell of loneliness or conditions that are bad

Let people hear of the joy you feel with wind upon your face

Or when you wed your sweetheart in her gown of ivory lace

Don’t spread the lie and say your life is only pain and woe

And set aside deceitful words that echo over radio

For just this once please tell the truth; you live the life you love!

With prairie as your pillow as you gaze at stars above

I know you have a secret, it’s the one you won’t betray

The mysteries of the universe are in the Cowboy Way