This country life is where it's at
...if you're rich or old and frail,
I soared with eagles and sang with crows
...then ate dove and quail. Opossum stew is on the stove
...my guitar by my side,
I can blast my music in the darkness of night
...or carve out a bow from a branch,
As I indulge in the "Fine Arts"
...here, at Rattlesnake Ranch. My arrow pierced a mountain lion
...then I came home and fed my cat,
I befriended a wolf and barn owl
...then shot and bagged a deer,
And ate chicken-fried venison
...for almost a week and a year. My arrows aim straight, in the survival for life
...my targets appear, somehow guided in flight,
Not all are gifted with what I possess
...Mother Nature's rewards, I humbly respect.