There once was this ole Cowboy, a fella I knew some time back
He wasn’t a noteworthy son of a gun, just kind of an air breathin’ hack
But he did have this one quality, somethin’ that made him kind of rare
It wasn’t his bare knuckle brawlin’, and it wasn’t his wild hair
It wasn’t the fact that he could ride ’bout any bronc you could find
And it wasn’t his smarts or his skills or his looks, far as those, he was an average kind
But this knucklehead did have somethin’ that set him quite apart
It warn’t nuthin’ you could see with your eyes It was the size of his beatin’ heart
You see, this cowpoke didn’t have a thing he wouldn’t gladly give to you
If he figgered that you had a need there warnt nuthin he wouldn’t do
To make sure you got what it was that would see you through
Didn’t matter if he needed it; what mattered to him was you
He and I, we traipsed around the country haulin’ broncs and bulls and such
And he never was a rich man in fact, he didn’t have that much
But whatever it was that he had, you were welcome to it
If it happened you were in a fix, and he could help you through it
I watched him one time take a saddle that took a lot of try to win
And give it to a kid at a jackpot in Carlin
He didn’t know that kid at all, and what’s more, he didn’t care
The kid just didn’t have a saddle and he said, “Well, I think that ain’t fair.”
We picked up lots of hitchhikers we found along the way
And took ’em where they wanted or else let ’em come and stay
And fed ’em up, and gave ’em work and a place to sleep besides
He never asked ’em too much, he just took it in is stride
One day he was shoein’ horses, and he had one about half done
I was talkin’ about this habit of treatin’ everyone like his chum
I wondered why he did it, why he never passed them by
I handed him a few more nails, and asked him, straight out, “why?”
He kept a raspin’ on the hoof, and thought for just a bit
He was quiet so long, I started to think that maybe I’d better quit
Then he said that he’d been there before: in the place where they were now
Doin’ what he could to eat, and live, without even knowin’ how
Or when or where he’d eat again. He said he’d lived hand to mouth
And he remembered what it felt like to be down and go without
He said that there’s no tellin’ when he might be down again
That nuthin is this life is sure, not everyone can win
He said you can’t tell just when you might need to drink from the reservoir
That you’ve built throughout your life by how you’ve treated your neighbor
So every time he came upon a gent down on his luck
Whose hands were hangin’ down and whose life had just got stuck
Whose truck run out of gasoline, who didn’t have no hay
He’d hit the brakes on his own life And help them on their way
I said, “Pard, that’s nice I see your point, but this I’ve got to say
There’s just no way of knowin’ If that stuff’ll come back your way
No matter how many bums you help, no matter the mouths you feed
It may never come full circle, it just ain’t guaranteed.”
He smiled, and set the hoof down, stood up and looked down the road
And said, “Bud you missed the point. It ain’t reapin’ what I sowed
It ain’t gettin’ a reward for this that makes me help ’em out
It ain’t manna up in heaven that this ole cowboy’s about.
What’s it worth to you to feel happy? To know everything’s alright?
To feel there’s goodness in the world? That you exist in someone’s sight?
To know that you’re a human being? That you’ve a part to play?
That others want good things for you, and want you here to stay?
It’s that, my friend, that fills me up, the ‘why’ for what I do.
So that anyone we come across, can feel just like me and you.”