I remember well that bitter cold winter,
Back in 79.
We had ridden high to bring the herd down,
Me and a friend of mine.
Bob wus up in his 60's, I'd guess.
He always talked about dyin' and such.
We all figgered He'd live ferever,
We never pondered on it that much.
Bob got the idea fer us to split up,
That sounded pretty good at the time.
It got to snowin' so hard, we couldn't see.
And Tracks wus impossible to find.
I looked fer bob so we could find shelter
Until it snowed itself out.
I searched high and low, where I thought he might be,
And he wouldn't answer my shout.
My hands wus numb, I couldn't feel the reins,
I figgered frost bite had sure set in.
I found a dry place fer me and my horse,
To get us out of the wind.
In the mornin', I'd start lookin' again.
He'd be o.k., I had no doubt.
He probably found a safe, dry place,
And rode the snow storm out.
I found Bob's horse wanderin' around,
He wus lame and half frozen as well.
How fer he had wandered from Bob
Wus somethin' I couldn't tell.
I finally found Bob, later that day,
Sittin' with his back again' a tree.
His horse had throwed him, he had froze to death,
Sittin' there waitin' fer me.
I think about Bob ever now and then,
And all the things he said.
"I wanna be buried high on that mountain,
With a pine tree at my head."
He always talked about dyin' up there.
He sure loved that high, cold place.
He looked real natural up agin' that tree,
With a big smile froze on his face.
We couldn't bury Bob, the ground wus too hard.
I took him back to the ranch with me.
'Bout three days later, we buried him deep,
Head agin' the roots of that tree.
The sky is blue, the trees are tall,
Why he loved that place ain't hard to see.
He's probably layin' there now,
With that smile on his face, still patiently waitin' fer me.
Willie P. 8/17/22
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