I walked the church graveyard of long ago
Remember the many souls
Family streaking the history here
Proud and caring group
Worked long hours
..and prayed

You cannot count my fingers weep
Nor take the seldom words stray
And lay my guns by your bed
Nor count the words I wished you said

For in the rhyming of the soul
There are no places you can go
Just walk the bitter path
Flowers in bloom
Your cold and lonely room

Austerity they say
That made me put the guns away
Tombstones on church hill
No want or need to kill

The west is done
Cowboys and Indians
Nobody won

Just treasures
Built of stone

Lord bless our west Texas home