In honor of a great Cowboy tune, best sung by Cash (Oh Bury Me Not). I heard this last night, and I wondered if a lone prairie could truly be such a bad place to rest, considering urban sprawl.
They unearthed
a man near a dead burr tree
The constructors
cussed, killed their earth machines
On the
city’s edge, rise the new buildings
Where our
city spreads, on the new prairie
The law
called on me and my specialty
Come survey
this man’s
Excavate his
fate, make your inquiry
Who’s
buried there near our new city
I bent my
back over the hardened clay
Dug in my
spade, where his bones were laid
In a
narrow grave, just six by three
He was
buried there on the old prairie
I measured
the bones of a youth who lay
Where he
hit the ground on some bloody day
The Dallas sun addressed the man’s unrest
Stetson
on his head and a shot sprayed vest
His cow boots
were worn, Justins on the run
Driving up longhorns?
Or pinched banker’s sum?
Such a
shallow grave, for a round in just...
Or a lowly
bed, in a lover’s fuss?
I
whispered prayers, despite a cultured mind
Should I leave
you here under a mall's sign?
Will they
take no heed to my open plea?
To exhume
your bones to the lone prairie?
The
contractor cussed, start these earth machines
On the
city’s edge, rise our new buildings
Give me your report on that man deceased
Who’s
buried out there on our new prairie?
Let’s
remove his bones to the lone prairie!
Where no buildings
crowd, and the wind blows free!
Where
there's not a soul but an old burr tree!
Oh, bury
him there on the lone prairie!
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