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©Tom Hanshew 9/01 While sleepin’ in the bunkhouse, I heard a creakin’ of the door. With one eye barely open, I watched as the others snored. I heard spurs that jingle and boots on the rough wood floor But no cowhand has entered just a shadow nothin’ more. I’ve heard stories ‘bout a wrangler, how time and time again. He visits this old bunkhouse just lookin’ fer his friends. He died while ridin’ nighthawk in rustler’s canyon so they say. Cut down by a coward’s bullet never to see the light of day. But he comes back here a visitin’ lookin’ fer his old friends Wandering in the night and lonely searchin’ now and then. A few have said they seen him just a glimpse a time or two Like someone was watchin’ from the shadows as darkness drew. Dry grass and twigs would crackle then silence as you listen in vain You shudder and go about your business still watchin’ jest the same. It seemed like I lay there for hours though maybe jest a minute or two While he walked from one bunk to another as my fear and panic grew. I barely breathed as I listened for his footfalls to stop by my bed Then they stopped as my heart pounded my whole bein’ filled with dread. What would I do if he touched me or spoke with hollow tones? A chill raced over my body and I ached in all of my bones. Then a cold wind softly touched me and I shook with a sudden chill I gathered my blanket about me and braced with all of my will. I recalled the stories about him and how he was lookin’ fer his friends So I said "Welcome Home Compadre, you can ride with us on the wind. Then his footsteps slowly left me and jingled on out the door The door creaked together softly while the other cowboys snored. And I wondered should I tell them would they believe the thing I saw? Would they laugh and call me crazy that I had a dream that’s all? But I know that I had a visit from a sad and lonely spirit wind And never more will I fear him when he visits his cowboy friend. ©Tom Hanshew 9/01 |
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