It’s What I Do |

It’s What I Do

A cowboy is the way he is because he works with stock.

He’s learned it’s best to ease along

To find the rhythm in their song

And not to fret if days are long

‘cause cows don’t punch a clock.

That separates him from the crowd that keeps a job in town

That stack the boxes all in rows

Or bolt the knobs on radios

But when the evening whistle blows

They lay the hammer down.

“A job ain’t done until it’s done,” that’s life down on the farm.

To gather those who tend to stray

To treat the sick on Christmas Day

And if she needs your help, to stay.

Until she’s safe from harm.

You see, you can’t just quit a cow. Sometimes yer all she’s got.

No reinforcements in the hall

No Nine-One-One to hear her call

Just you. Nobody else, that’s all,

to get her through the spot.

His calling is as old as time. It is, will be and was.

Through blizzards, bogs and bob wire fence

He stands against the pestilence

And though he feigns indifference,

he’s proud of what he does.

It’s done without a second thought by those who tend the flock

“It’s what I do,” you’ll hear them say

With no demand for higher pay

And I believe they are that way

because we work with stock.