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Glenn Ohrlin, one of my favorite singers ever, included this song on his first LP, The Hell-Bound Train, now regrettably out-of-print. It’s actually a truncated version of “The Cowboy’s Soliloquy,” a song whose text first appeared in the Trinidad, Colorado Daily Advertiser in 1885. The poet, unidentified at the time, turned out to be an east-Texas cowhand named Allen McCandless
McCandless’ original, sometimes called “The Biblical Cowboy,” is partly Biblical analog, with verses sanctifying ranchers and cowboys by likening them to Old Testament patriarchs.
"Abraham emigrated in search of a range,
When water got scarce he wanted a change.
Isaac had cattle in charge of Esau,
And Jacob ‘run cows’ for his father-in-law."
It’s an eloquent argument for the nobility of a maligned caste.
Ohrlin’s version, the version I sing, transforms the longer argument into a spare and sympathetic portrait. The cowboy is a gentle figure who lives simply, close to nature and, undeservedly, beyond the fringe of respectable society.
"If I’d hair on my chin, I’d resemble the goat
That bore all the sins in the ages remote."
These last two lines refer to the Old Testament Book of Leviticus, where God orders the sacrifice of two goats. One should be burned to death and ritually devoured to atone for the sins of the Israelites. The other unfortunate animal, while allowed to live, “shall bear all their iniquities on itself to a remote area.” The very first scapegoat.
Ohrlin later recorded another version of “The Cowboy,” somewhat closer to McCandless’ original. That version is also printed in his wonderful songbook, The Hell-Bound Train (1973).
lyrics
All day in the saddle, on the prairie I ride,
Not even a dog, boys, to trot by my side.
My fire I must kindle from chips gathered ’round,
And I boil my own coffee without being ground.
Now, for want of a stove I cook bread in a pot.
I sleep on the ground, boys, for want of a cot.
I bathe in a creek, I dry on a sack,
And I carry my wardrobe all on my back.
My books are the brooks and my sermons the stones.
My parson’s the wolf on his pulpit of bone.
My roof is the sky, my floor is the grass,
And my music’s the lowing of herds as they pass.
And then if my cooking’s not very complete,
You can’t blame me for wanting to eat.
But show me the man who sleeps more profound
Than the big puncher boy who’s stretched out on the ground.
Now society brands me so savage and dodge;
The Masons would bar me out of their lodge.
If I’d hair on my chin, I’d resemble the goat,
That bore all the sins in the ages remote.
Now my parson remarks from his pulpit of bone,
“Fortune favors those who look out for their own.
And Cupid is always a friend to the bold,
And all of his arrows are pointed with gold.”
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