My uncle went to Cowboy Heaven, before I was ever here,
and ol' Hank made his way too, with just his guitar and a beer.
There's a place up there for cowboys, where Lane Frost holds on for eight,
and you can talk to pure bred cowboys, from all of our great states.
The ladies ride 'round golden barrels, with their buckles shinin' bright,
and folks thank God each day, for sendin' down that light.
So if you lose a cowboy, just remember this one thing,
he's there in every lyric, that Hank and Lefty sing.
He's under every Stetson hat, and on every bull or bronc
he's on the arm of redneck girls, at the local honky tonk.
He's watchin' from behind the chutes, and he pulls your rope so tight,
and when you lay your head down, he's that star that's shinin' bright.
He's up there with my granddad, and with all your granddads too,
and every step you take, he'll be watchin' over you.
The final buzzer sounded, and he's taken his last ride,
but on earth he still remains, in every cowboy's pride.
So cowboys don't give up, and ride your horses 'till the end,
for at the gates of Cowboy Heaven, awaits your western friend.
Ride in memory of the man, who wears the Stetson halo,
and keep him in your heart, at every rodeo,
and when your life just gets you down, and you're feelin' sad and blue,
remember...Cowboy Heaven, and your angel wait for you.
© Jennifer Bain
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
Written for Terry and Jan Lewis of Osceola, Iowa,
In loving memory of their son,
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