Riding cowboys

I rode the dunes out west of Tucson,
letting the daylight fade to crimson.
Long the yearning dwelled within
Long the spirit boiled with sin.

Fret not a furrowed or sun burnt face,
nor broken limb or low bent waist.
Pass not the tired from hard rode pace
or he who chafes from saddle's base

Welcome to the men on horses,
Living not from bulging purses.
Open doors for wandering louses,
Lay the beast on beds and couches.

For when you do you'll find the glory.
about hard rode men, not kid or boy.
He'll leave you soon not stay or toy,
And all you have is a hell of a story.