I've heard quite a few cowboys,
that followed a wagon or two.
Make fun of the packers, and say,
it's something that they wouldn't do ........
 But I'll tell you, there's somethin' about packin',
that gets in your blood.
Early in the spring, when the snow starts to melt,
And the willows to bud……..
I long to be travelin' the high trails again,
and to be on top of the world.
To look down from the high passes, to the valley below,
Where a river lies curled……..

The sound of a fish, jumpin' in the dark,
as you're campin' at night, by the quiet lakes.
The song of the nightwind in the pines, why
just thinking about it is all that it takes ....... .
To fill my ol' heart, with a rememberin'
and a longin' that realy is strong.
For the feel of a good horse between my knees,
And some mules a’followin’ along ……..
The squeaky, creaky little song,
that the loads and the riggin' sings.
Makin' music with the little bells,
That I hung from the britchin’ rings ……..

As over my shoulder, a good string of mules,
a' travelin' right.
With the packs all balanced, top loads straight,
And lash ropes tight ……..
They are a'followin' down, the steep narrow,
switchbacks, head to tail.
And my hearts in my mouth, when a big rock,
Rolls down, off the trail ……..
Shod hooves strikin' fire, on slick granite faces,
that glisten in the noon day sun.
Granite that was polished, by a glacier's travels,
Long ages before mankind begun ……..

I've got a couple of neighbors, live up the road from me.
Difference between them, this story makes it plain to see.
One came to ask me a favor, a couple of years ago.
And what he said to me, made his personality show.

"I need your trailer, to haul my old red horse to town.
He's fat and I'd better do it, before the price goes down."
He said "I rode his mother, when I was just a kid.
And I could always depend on him, no matter what I did".

"I raised him from a colt, he was the best I ever had.
Little kids could ride him, and he'd not do one thing bad."
"My youngest daughter, learned to barrel race on him.
She sure was proud, of all the ribbons she used to win.

"But he's old now, got ringbone, in both his front feet.
And all he's good for anymore, is to stand around and eat."
When he brought my trailer home, he said "he sure was glad.
Ol' Red had brought two hundred bucks, that ain't so bad."

Said "Our neighbor is dumb, keeping his old horse around."
He'd bring twenty cents a pound, if he'd haul him to town."
Yes my other neighbor, he has an ol' yellow horse.
Hasn't rode him in years, keeps him as a matter of course.

He feeds him good thru, the hard winter days.
Then in the summer time, turns him out to graze.
The other day he said, "he had an awful favor to ask.
Yeller's gettin' feeble, he's afraid he couldn't last."

"If a bad storm was to come, with deep snow and arctic cold.
He knows he couldn't stand it, he's just too darn old."
Said" That ol' yellow horse, don't owe me one thin dime.
And I sure don't regret, feedin' him past his prime."

"But there comes a time, for each of us, when we have to go.
God, I'm gonna' miss him, but I guess, somehow he'll know."
Then he looked at me, and the tears filled his eyes.
"I just can't bring myself, to do it, you realize?"

"So tomorrow mornin', when, I'm goin' off to town.
I'd sure appreciate it, if you'd come and put him down."
"I'll leave a bucket of grain, by the door to the shed.
While he's eatin' it, please put a bullet in his head."

Now my little story, has come around to the end.
I guess you know which neighbor, I cherish as a friend.

As you get older, sense of history and family grow stronger.
You realize time, is not just today, but a whole lot longer.
Reach back in your mind, for something you heard as a kid.
Then you wish you'd paid, a lot more attention than you did.

……….******************……….

These old Chawawa spurs, are a'hangin' on my wall.
Shanks are brown with rust, there's no silver there at all.
Rowells been changed, and the straps are cracked and worn.
These old spurs saw a lot of miles, before I was ever born.

They sang a quiet jingle, where-ever that my father went.
I hear them yet, when rememberin' days, long since spent.
Memories of my father, come a'crowdin' across the years.
Once again I can see him, come a'ridin' down thru my tears.

With his bridle reins a-swingin',
and his ol' Chawawa spurs a-singin'.

Standin' in his stirrups, his horse a'hittin' a long trot.
And I'm ridin' proud beside him, givin' it everything I got.
Little paint horse is eatin' up the miles, my side achin'.
Eastern sky is turnin' light, dawn will soon be breakin'.

That was on far-off desert range, and over fifty years ago.
These old Chawawa spurs been silent now, twenty years or so.
How I wish that they could talk, these ol' Chawawa spurs.
Tell me of my Father, when he was young and full of burrs.

He was plenty wild and soggy, and it was just his fate.
Folks said he wasn't bad, just born fifty years too late.
He sometimes talked to me of things, that happened long ago.
But he only told me things, that he wanted me to know.

His friends have told me stories, about the deeds he done.
Times a'fightin' for his life, other times just having fun.
I know that at ridin' bad horses, he was the very best.
And in cowboying in rough country, he always stood the test.

He wore these spurs, when he killed the sheepmen, on the Arizona Strip.
Where he roped lots of wild cattle, and threw his famous trip.
Trailin' renegade Mexicans, across the border in a running fight.
And bringin' the stolen horses home again, in the dead of night.

He once told me how the cattle stampeded, when the lightning hit.
Fire ran in little steaks, from the cattle's horns, spurs and bit.
He was wearing them, the night he hurried back across the muddy Rio Grande.
Because he'd surely worn his welcome out, in his own native land.

Oh the stories they could tell, about the things I'd love to know.
The trails he rode, and the things he did, in that long, long ago.

When his bridle reins were a' swing in'.
And his ol' Chawawa spurs a' sing in'.

I reach up and touch, the bootwom shank, as they hang upon my wall.
But these old Chawawa spurs, they have never talked at all.