Every Friday afternoon, I hitch up the trailer. Saddle up ol' rock an' ice down the cooler. Drive that back road until it ends. At the Ropin' Pen There's rusted out pick-ups an' fancy rigs. Twenty
Old Tuck was a cowboy I knew years ago. Could put a stretch in a story like a forty foot row. Young an' wide eyed, I believed every word. As he rambled through the canyons an' stampeded herds. Swo
