George the cowman

If you’ve ever been loved by a cowboy,
You’ll know what I say is true;
They know how to love a woman,
And you thank your stars that it’s you.

It’s not in the fancy talkin’
Or tryin’ like heck to impress.

It’s in the deep, honest carin’
That makes these men of the west.

They learn from the world around them,
That life is precious to hold.

See how they carry the lost calf,
Until it’s back home in the fold?

They know the hand of our Maker
In the work that they do every day.

They protect the herd from danger,
And keep them from gettin’ away.

They see the glory of the sunrise,
Work hard to make things right.

When they tuck back into the bunkhouse
It’s usually the dark of the night.

In their powerful hands, there is healin’.

Rough and scarred, you can see,
But when they gently touch you
You know what tender can be.

For the hands that punch the cattle,
And break a horse just right,
Can brand a calf in the daytime
And deliver a foal in the night.

They stroke and comfort the skittish
They guide and lead the lame,
They work to heal the wounded
And treat the sickly humane.

There may be some maverick cowboys
That can’t keep their word to be true,
But there aren’t very many bad ones
Believe me, their numbers are few.

Most stretch the truth in their “tall tales”
And fib to put on a good show,
But you’ll rarely catch one lyin’
It’s a matter of honor, you know.

When you put all these things together
You see it’s a gift, plain as day.

God gave us these fine, good men
To keep us from runnin’ astray.

To be held in the heart of a cowboy,
To hear him call you “ma’am”
To snuggle in his big, strong arms
And be his “darlin’ lamb”

Can make you more a woman
Than you could ever guess,
For when you’re loved by a cowboy,
You’re loved by the very best

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