Monday, January 25, 2010

There's an Old Friend



There’s an old friend waiting for me

There’s an old friend waiting for me, though I’ve been gone for quite a spell
I just know he’ll come a running when he hears the pack string’s bell

Old Slick just couldn’t cut ‘er, the last time our string pulled out
And though it hurt me greatly, I told him to “lay about”

“Stay and guard the bunkhouse, and keep the cook in line”
It was a job you’d give an old dog, and not that friend of mine

That friend of mine who always was the first into the fray
That friend who wouldn’t tire was now just old and grey

But I was coming home now, and I’d scratch behind those ears
We’d sit out on the front porch and reminisce about our years

I should hear him barking shortly When he sees us round the barn
But Slick aint on his blanket And it’s quiet on the farm

The cook, he comes to greet us And by the way his head hangs so
He doesn’t have to tell me that my old friend’s laying low

So when I take my dirt nap and they lay me ‘neath the tree
I won’t have to fear the crossing for an old friend waits for me.


I penned the above in memory of my dear departed friend, Tess. When I wrote it I just couldn't bear to use Tess' name and Slick seemed to be a name that more readers could identify with. As a tribute to the power of a dog, it seems that whenever I or Loyd perform the song/poem we get people coming up and telling us how much the song means to them.

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Please feel free to leave a comment. Ever since old Rebel rolled on me and I've been strapped to this old hospital bed I've enjoyed whatever posts come my way.