Johnny America's Slightly Twisted Mind

I’d like to share a story, told so long ago. About two strangers, and the trails that they would follow. She a pretty cowgirl, he an old cowhand. They share a lifestyle, only few can understand.

Up before the sunrise, in the bunk to the light of the moon. Ride the open ranges, they’ve got to find a lost pony soon. Up and down the valley, into the deep dark wood. They each find their pony, where a old great oak once stood.

Race against a rainstorm, lean into the gale. To finally get home, lit by the starlight cold and pale. Tend and stable both the horses, hang up all the tack. They’ll always love this, they know there’s no turning back.

One morning came a blizzard, one like they’d never seen before. They rode together, through an open Portuguese door. A lonely empty cabin, a shed just over there. He went and tied the horses, with his usual loving care.

She had lit a fire, and found some coffee too. He had some jerked beef, so that little bit would have to do. The cabin slowly warmed up, he found and lit an old oil lamp. The blizzard got worse, it looked like they’d have to camp.

He slowly turned to face her, she put a warm cup in his hand. That small log cabin, seemed like the promised land. Outside the storm was raging, but inside was warm and dry. She didn’t know why, but she had began to cry.

He softly held her closely, told her it would be OK. The storm will break soon, then they could be on their way. The cowgirl never felt so wanted, so safe or so secure. And that old cowhand, never held anything so pure.

I’d like to ask you something, after the snow ceases to fall. Would you mind ma’am, if this old cowhand came to call? She tossed her mane, and gave a little wink. Then smiled, and said cowhand what do you think?

He said I’ll come a calling, I’m glad that you don’t you mind. You and me cowgirl, we are two of a kind. We can ride through life together, we don’t have to ride alone. Just between us, we can make a little house a home.

In that magic moment, the sun began to shine. The blizzard over, and the wind had ceased to whine. He put out the fire, she put out the lamp. Then together, they cleaned up their cozy little camp.

He went to get their horses, from where he tied them up before. When he returned, she was waiting for him by the door. They rode off together, back through the Portuguese gate. We’d better hurry, it’s starting to get late.

The cowhand headed to the west, the cowgirl to the east. They were both smiling, happy to say the least. Before they rode too far apart, they were both amazed to see. A gray dappled mustang, standing by a great oak tree.

Some things need no explanation, some things are a mystery. But I thank God, that he brought you to me. I know that it’s not over, and I know I’ve found a friend. Just the beginning, that they hoped would never end.