The Best Cowhand

                                                    The Best Cowhand

The best cowhand arrived early that day though he'd worked to keep us safe all night long.

He was happy and smiling from ear to ear, and was helpful, and kind, and strong.

The best cowhand was quiet that day, vulgar words never slipped through his lips.

And he just knew when the others needed a hand, and was as close as their own fingertips.

And when the cows saw him coming, they knew right away they were beat!

You could see them tuck their heads down, in their eyes you could see the defeat.

When we stuffed our mouths full at dinner time, he patiently waited for scraps.

Then he offered to wash the dishes, "He's perfection," I thought, "perhaps!"

When we all jumped in front of the pick-up, he happily jumped in the back,

ignoring the cold wind howling, he just curled up behind all the tack.

When it came time to pay the Cowboys,he quietly slid away from the pack.

His needs were few, and he felt blessed with some kind words, some food, and a shack.

The best cowhand by far that day did twice the work of three,

and he always kept a watchful eye so he could help cover for me.

The best cowhand was a foreigner, part English and part Aussie.

It's true, he's only a mongrel dog, but not to praise him would feel like hypocrisy!