Album Note: This song attempts to explain the many daily challenges faced by the Flint Hills cowboy. Told through the sweet dream of a napping “drover,” it describes a world where none of these problems exist—until he wakes up!
It’s late in the morning and the drover, he thinks There’s a shade ‘neath that Cottonwood tree Think I’ll get off my horse and catch a few winks And my pony can rest in the breeze
He’d been ridin for hours and the drover he knew When his mind took him down that sweet trail There’d be pastures a’plenty where his troubles were few And his cowboyin’ never would fail
The drover he dreams in the color of green As he rides through the belly-deep grass Where baby calves play in the sweet-smellin sage And his fortune and luck always last
In his dreams, weeds are short and the grasses are tall And the ponds and the creeks all stay full The cattle are healthy and fat in the fall And he won’t have to mess with a bull
The truck’s never late so he won’t have to wait In the pens with the flies and the dust His cinches stay tight and he’s home before night And his horse trailer’s not full of rust
The wind doesn’t switch when he’s burnin his grass And the water-gaps never wash out All the fences stay tight and the lightnin won’t strike And there’s no such a thing as a drought
There’s never sick critters, and there ain’t no outlaws And the gatherin pen’s cool and shady And his mare keeps her footin and won’t trip and fall And she always behaves like a lady
Then he wakes and of course things are fine til his horse - Throws a shoe on the way to his truck Where he’s got two flat tires but only one spare – Guess his dreams used up all his good luck!
Photo by Ron Klataske
Except where noted, photos by Annie and John Wilson