Ain’t much good at prayin’, And you may not know me, Lord, I ain’t much seen in churches where they preach thy holy word. But you may have observed me out here on the Osage plains, A looking’ after cattle, feelin’ thankful when it rains. Admirin’ thy great handiwork, the miracle of grass, Aware of thy kind spirit in the way it comes to pass, That hired man on horseback and the livestock that we tend, Can look up at the stars at night, and know we’ve got a friend. A cowboy ain’t no preacher, Lord, But if you’ll hear my prayer, I’ll ask as good as we got, for all men everywhere, Don’t let no hearts be bitter, Lord, Don’t let no child be cold. Make easy beds for them that’s sick, and them that’s weak and old. Let kindness bless the trail we ride, no matter what we’re after, And sorta keep us on you’re side, In tears as well as laughter.