No tears in his coffee cup, no sad words spoken.
He knows he can always rope and brand another filly,
To cry about his broken heart is just too dog-gone silly!
Should you ever ride with him, rounding up the strays,
Making camp and and ending, yet another long hard day...
Never ask em, "What that you? I thought I heard a whimper or a sigh."
He will just declare, "Must have been some lonesome coyote's cry."
You will have to get him really drunk to get to know the facts,
He will only dream of some way to get that woman back.
He will just take the pain, as if his heart was branded,
And always feel like some old bull, that somehow, just got stranded.
It's mighty tough when a cowboy's down, it's like riding without his saddle.
If he can just find a woman like her... one that he can straddle!
Like his silver spurs, his worn down rope, he cannot give her up....
For it takes a woman, just like her, to get a cowboy to cowboy up.
To Marty, for your next birthday.