Ol’
Dobbs said he was the last of his kind
Been
a buckaroo as long as he could recall
In
fact, if he couldn’t do the job a-horse-back
He
didn’t want to do the job at all
We
last saw him spring of Ninety One
The
foreman was layin’ out a job for us to do
He
said we’d be diggin’ postholes for a drift fence
“And
Dobbs”, he added, “You’ll dig too.”
Now,
Dobbs did not get angry at this
And
arguin’, well, it wasn’t the old man’s way
He
smiled and said, “Son, I mean no disrespect,
But I
reckon I’ll just draw my pay.”
“I
hear there’s work up Montana way
They
say the ranges are the finest anywhere
I’ve
always wanted to see all them mountains
Send
you a post card when I get there.”
We
got a card from Dobbs that Fall
He
said Montana was no place for him to stay
Said
in spring there’s lots of horse-work to do
But
in summer they wanted him to bale hay
Next
we got a card from Canada
Seems
Dobbs found a spot to spend the winter in
He
wrote, “These boys spend six months just settin’ in a chair,
Come
spring, I’m headed north again.”
The
postmark said, “North Pole” and the note
Had a
picture of Dobbs with a herd of funny deer
He
wrote, “The folks up here are real nice, but no one ranches,
After
Christmas, I’m rollin’ out of here.”
The
cards came in from all over then
Russia, China, and Tibet to name a few
There
were stories of Yaks and Mongolian somethin’s
Said
he’d roped a musk-ox or two
Ol’
Dobbs was stayin’ one jump ahead
Of
changes to a world he couldn’t abide
He
looked for work all over the map---honest work
For a
cowboy that just wants to ride
We
were talkin’ about Ol’ Dobbs last night
Figgered he was old and prob’ly passed of course
We’re
not sure what the angels do up there in Heaven
But
we’re sure one is doin’ it from a horse.
