Scott Valley’s Cowboy
He was Scott Valley’s Cowboy, a colt-breaking machine,
A hard working legend, and a damn fine Marine,
A fishing boat captain and huge ocean fan,
He’d take anyone out, on days his boat ran.
We’d go sit on the porch, and he’d joke as he sat,
And laugh as Grandma’d say, “Jim, don’t tell them that.”
Whether he was serving spiked cider, or in wild horse races,
He’d always put smiles on everyone’s faces.
Like the time he said “Come on, Brad, we won’t get in trouble,”
“Just hop on with me; let’s ride this bull double”
Or holding firecrackers between his finger and thumb,
But when you’d try to do it, your hand would go numb.
So he’d light off another, and with a big grin,
He’d say, “See you just held it wrong; here try it again”
We were all lucky to know a man so kind and so strong,
But now it’s time for the cowboy to ride on.
And he’s up there now where the colts are all frisky,
There’s lots of rank broncs, and there’s only good whiskey.
So don’t be too sad as we lower him down,
Cuz whenever we need him, he’ll still be around.
By Clint Johnson