Over The Hill Poem by Smoky Hoss

Not riding rodeo any more
done had my fill,
no more wild-Cowboying
I'm over the hill-
No more bucking broncs
nor crazy stories to tell,
the wild-west is finished
and gone all to hell-
The horses and cattle
have moved along,
old Buffalo Bill and Sitting Bull
are dead and gone-
The leather's
worn off the tree,
and the same could be said
about an old Cowpoke like me-
Buffalo bones are
bleaching in the prairie sun,
there's no more bullets
for my old gun-
I lost more than a spur and my old hat
in the last go round,
looking back, there's a lot of dust
still falling to the ground-
On the stellar-scale
of gumption and drive,
it's no small wonder
I'm even still here, alive-
Time to pack my old pickup truck
and pull my hat down low,
find something softer to do
and somewhere gentler to go-
For an old Cowboy
who's overpaid his bill,
there's no need looking back
just keep riding, over the hill-