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The Rodeo Princess  

I once met a girl at a rodeo
Whose cheeks bore a ruddy, windswept glow.
Her eyes were green. She had yellow hair.
Her clothes were like those that working folk wear.
There was a Queen Contest calling one and all,
And that tomboy entered for the fun of it all.
I talked to a cowboy who was short and thin,
He checked his back trail and then said with a grin:
"She's kinda wild, if you know what I mean.
She might make Princess but she shore ain't no Queen."

There were three girls entered that Queen Contest.
They judged 'em on who rode horses the best.
They judged 'em on looks and on their dress,
And they judged 'em on things I must confess
That I don't think I will ever get,
Things like diction and etiquette.
They gave 'em flags and they made 'em parade
In the grand entry on the opening day.
And they made their choices. They weren't trying to be mean.
They made her second Princess to the Rodeo Queen.

Well, she rode the barrels with an easy grace,
And both days she won the stock horse race.
By a campfire, late on Saturday night,
She sang and she danced 'til the dawns first light.
A smile sat, gentle, on her weathered face,
And she wore her denim like the finest lace.
I looked at her again, as she was standing there,
And I saw the wild beauty in her yellow hair,
And I saw the lady in those eyes so green.
    what can I tell you folks?
She's more than a Princess. She's a Rodeo Queen.

2002, Daryl King
These words may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.



People of the Land

In a garden or a forest, on a mountain or a plain,
Call them farmer, hunter, rancher, or a hundred other names.
They are ready for the challenges a frontier life demands,
And they're everywhere around you, these people of the land.

You can see it in the homes they build and in the clothes they wear.
You can see it in their steady eye and in their simple fare.
With their struggles etched like road maps on their faces and their hands,
Yes, you can tell by looking, they are people of the land.

They seldom buy a painting or a sculptured work of art
The kind of craft they cultivate is closer to their heart.
A rhyming verse, a simple tune, a dinner caref'lly planned,
All these things are beauty to the people of the land.

In all their ways they cherish peace, that's how they live their life.
They crave the strength of family, the love of man and wife.
But they're mighty warriors in their hearts when forced to take a stand,
God help the man who dares to war with people of the land.

You may worship in your church or synagogue or home,
But these folks know God's blessing wherever they may roam.
For everywhere they look they can see the Master's Hand.
And that is just as it should be. They are people of the land.

1998, Daryl King
These words may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.



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