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White Horse - from Alberta, Saskatchewan, and Manitoba westward to the Rocky Mountains
Where the horses go no one will know for the little children that ride across these open lands,
savage as they are, white pony will bring me home. God I know thee, I ride across these prairies from Alberta, Saskatchewan, and Manitoba westward to the Rocky Mountains.
Wild ride across Big Bluestem grass my daddy called Turkey Feet that we selfishlessly pulled out and got us a dust bowl. We are still learning our lesson. That was the 1930s and now I'm still riding across the prairie, white horse leading the way. Sometimes I stop and eat my cowboy lunch and sleep after, this place I love and call my home. I feel tired unbuckling my belt and pulling off my boots. It's been a long ride. Where the white horses go no one will ever know.
savage as they are, white pony will bring me home. God I know thee, I ride across these prairies from Alberta, Saskatchewan, and Manitoba westward to the Rocky Mountains.
Wild ride across Big Bluestem grass my daddy called Turkey Feet that we selfishlessly pulled out and got us a dust bowl. We are still learning our lesson. That was the 1930s and now I'm still riding across the prairie, white horse leading the way. Sometimes I stop and eat my cowboy lunch and sleep after, this place I love and call my home. I feel tired unbuckling my belt and pulling off my boots. It's been a long ride. Where the white horses go no one will ever know.
Published 9th Oct 2012
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