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Ode to Tom T Hall

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Mountain Cowgirl

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Ode to Tom T. Hall
by Faye D. Fox


I was ridin the range checkin on all the cattle
I was getting kinda weary from all day in the saddle
I caught a whiff of the smell of cheap tobacco smoke
I thought it was imagination from being tired and broke

A twinge of hunger set in so I pulled out an old stale churro
As my wearied eyes caught sight of an old man ridin on a burro
He rode slowly toward me, saddled on my mountain footed paint
His smiling face with wisdom lines inquired before he spoke, ain’t

Ain’t you the one that used to wear short mini skirts back in the day
Yes, I confessed but since my baby died after birth, I was never PTA
I don’t know nothin about Harper Valley but I do know hypocrites
And I may be old, gray, stubborn, silly, and prone to throw hissy fits

But that’s the way I am and what more can I say
I ain’t changed all that much even to this very day
He looks at me all stern and says, Faye you are a liar
His weathered face was all ablaze, it was a ragin fire

You’ve changed he said, you ain’t no younger woman, you look a disaster
You won’t drink older whiskey, you ride that paint not a horse that’s faster
Well, I replied, aged older whiskey, faster horses, and sassy younger women so fine
Can never be compared to older women, rock footed horses, and watermelon wine

I looked old Tom square in the eyes and asked with statement, do you love a little baby duck
A mountain stream, the sound of gentle rain, not a tornado train, and little calves that still suck
Tall grass, fishin bass, rain in May, dry June harvested hay, coffee in a cup, or a cattle herding pup
So what do you like I inquired, my face all fired, writing songs, he replied, then he ran out of luck
 
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