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Where have those days gone?
Where dew settles upon leaves,
Where the coyotes can be heard singing in the distance.
Waking early in the morning before dawn,
Tasting the lasso in your mouth…
…As you put on your cowhide boots with spurs of silver
        attached.

You button up your western shirt that still has dirt from
        the previous day.

How you breathe the fresh morning air coming in through
       the window pane.

A fresh cup of coffee in one hand,
And some pan-de-campo you made in your Dutch oven
       yesterday.

You rise off your throne and give your sweet wife a kiss goodbye,
As you have many times before,
She looks right into your big blue eyes and weathered face
      and gives you a smile.

Before you walk out, you reach for your cowboy hat you
      wear every day.

The stench of horse sweat follows as you put on your light
      tan chaps.

A tug here and a tug there, you saddle up your trusty
      friend.

You broke him in as a colt, and now he lowers himself to
      let you climb on,
Who says a horse cannot be a man’s best friend?
You give a little kick and a whistle to get your tall trusty
      friend moving,
You motion towards a bull that has wandered off course.
Your friend is well trained and he maneuvers to cut the
       bull off.

With a twirl and flip of your lasso, you grab it by the horns.
With a pull of your horse, the bull soon follows along.
Back with the herd, the bull is at ease, now it is time to
       take a snack if you please.

You reach in your pocket and pull out some deer jerky,
You look up into the sky and you know that it is almost
       noon now.

You don’t need a watch; you have done this your entire life,
You can look at a heifer and tell if she is pregnant just by
       your experienced sight.

As the sun sets you decide to head back to the hacienda
       before it turns night,
There waiting for you on a table is some carne y frijoles.
A flour tortilla flies onto your plate,
Your lovely bride smiles and gives you a kiss on the lips
         even if you were a little late.

She looks into your eyes as if it were the first time.
She grabs your hat and sets it aside.

The love is still going after all these years.

From a chuck wagon cook as a young man of an owner of a
         ranch,
You have lived a wonderful life old man,
And I know that is something you understand.

You have been written into history forever,
As a noble man of stature and worth,
And you will be known for generations to come.

As the last vaquero I have ever known.