Cowboys often let other things speak for them – looks, signs, nods, sighs, and songs – and the latter will have to speak for this blog this afternoon. It’s a song that says more than it might seem at first.
I might get to thinkin’
That I might, could quit drinkin’
But then what else is there to do
And it’s this contemplation
That spurs conversation
With the ceilin’ that I’ve been talkin’ to
If I keep my hands workin’
It holds off the hurtin’
For the work is all but true
But when the days at a close
And I’m all alone
You can guess where my mind wanders to
And it’s a feelin’ I have known
Since before I was grown
I’m howlin’, corralling the blues
And it’s a feelin’ I have known
Since before I was grown
I’m howlin’, corralling the blues
I’m howlin’, corralling the blues
