Author: Karsemeyer, John

Sweet Senior James
 

There is an old cowboy, he's grown kind of strange
His guitar and banjo are his only companions
He sleeps in the saddle and yawns in the canyons
He's grown plumper, but hopes for change
And as the moon rises, he spits on his fire
Thinking about old times, and sheds a small tear
And crosses his eyes, while he starts to perspire
He belts out a song with a belch from his beer
And a mile away someone can hear

Goodnight all you silver haired ladies
Remember sweet senior James
Rodeo queens and Ol' Blue are two that I choose
Won't you let me be young in your dreams
And think about sweet senior James

Now it's the eleventh of December, not covered in snow
No white on the freeways from Stockton to Frisco
And the banjos play bluegrass, breakdowns not disco
Father's Day six months behind me, and six more to go
There's a song that we sing as we go down life's highway
A song that we sing when we take time to see
Gospel points there to our home in the sky
Those that believe it have no need to weep
And bluegrass works just fine for me

Goodnight all you silver haired ladies
Remember sweet senior James
Rodeo queens and Ol' Blue are two that I choose
Won't you let me be young in your dreams
And think about sweet senior James

Note: The above, if sung as a song, may (or may not) have a resemblance to a popular song from the end of the 1960's or early 1970's that was written and sung by James Taylor. However, the author has no knowledge of the aforementioned, and if he does, his current level of pain medication has blocked that knowledge from his conscious memory. This has been verified by a Notary Public (that took place deep in the heart of the Missouri Ozarks, at a specific place, and at a specific time, the two of which he cannot remember).

 
Posted:  12/11/2010



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