Early each morning, <br />After my chores are done, <br />I saddle my horse, <br />Ride into the sun. <br /> <br />Over West Texas trails, <br />Got a ten gallon hat, <br />Spurs on my boots, <br />Follow old railroad rails, <br />I'm back in the saddle, <br />Back to my roots. <br />Feet locked in the stir-ups, <br />With my ole cowboy boots. <br /> <br />Goldie, my horse is gentle and tame, <br />Ride her easy, don't want her lame. <br />Stop for a drink, at the mouth of a brook, <br />Dismount from my saddle, <br />Take in a long look. <br /> <br />Mountain tops covered with snow on a ridge, <br />Amazed at the workmanship of an old wooden bridge. <br />A gentle breeze brings such a sweet zest, <br />Just me and Goldie, <br />Its really the best, <br />Riding the dusty old trails, <br />In the Wild, Wild, West.<br /><br />Philip Lore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-wild-wild-west/
