When i first met up with shorty
I was sixteen and abrupt,
Had been raised 'round cows and horses
Thought i knew which way was up
I'd landed a job on the seven 2,
Hired out to buckaroo.
I was to pull out with the wagon
And this shorty was on the crew.
He was old already
Little thin and unassuming
And the flame that burned his passion
For cowboy life was all consuming
And i can't help but remember
As i sit here and reflect
How this man who wore the blanchard spurs
Had gained the crew's respect
At night sometimes he'd talk about
His mother, school and home,
And how at fourteen years of age
He'd aimed to be a cowboy
And worked free for a ranch
Mucking stalls and digging postholes
'Til he'd earned himself a chance
How he'd worked in arizona
Popping brush and tyin' off
Spending winters on a camp job
Where the trails were awful rough
How he'd come out to nevada
Where he'd spent these many years
But when he'd think again of mother
His eyes would fill with tears
For he says
