Never think of those Old Timers, As someone that's come and gone,
They are ever here beside us, helping us to carry on.
They will always run the wagon, they will always lead the drive,
Thru the lessons they have taught us, they are ever by our side.
In memory they guide us, and their presence is so near,
Sometimes we see them thru the dust, riding with us here.
Working the herd on roundup, in their patient quite way,
Making sure the calves are branded, and watching for the strays.
We see them ride the circle, helping drive the cattle in,
With horses we thought dead and gone, back in their saddle string.
They are not ghosts or phantoms, nor any trick of mind,
But simply those Old Timers, helping someone left behind.
There was never time, for all the plans, they wished to carry out,
So they do them thru us now, by the lessons they have taught.
All the trails we follow here, were made by a horse they rode,
Those worn deep, from the cattle's feet, of the many herds they drove.
Some of their trails are winding, but follow and you shall see,
They always lead to water and grass, where ever that might be.
Up and over the mountains, across the plains beyond,
Those are the trails they traveled--that we should follow on.
If we but heed their wise advice, we seldom can go wrong,
The way will never be so rough, and only half as long.
Over a path not bad at all, and a lot of good we'll find,
When we travel with those Old Timers, over the trails they left behind.
