the canning town kid

a kerosene lantern hung on the porch

a plaid western shirt with a tear

old wrangler jeans, denim not cord

dos equis or sin city beer

a brown leather belt with a buckle so fine

new shined up boots on my feet

willie nelson singing yesterday’s wine

a truck that’s both rusty and beat

take me away across to the rockies

let me spend time on the plains

don’t label me as an east london cockney

my look should say ‘home on the range’

it’s the land of the brave, the home of the free

where custer was once called a hero

just bury my heart down at old wounded knee

take my ashes to spread at ground zero

when I’m away baby write me a line

with sentiment kisses and sweetness

you know that I’m yours and you’re always mine

but cowboys sure are my weakness