Now, O Lord, please lend Thine ear,
The prayer of the cattle man to hear;
No doubt many prayers to Thee seem strange,
But won’t you bless our cattle range?
Bless the round-up year by year
And don’t forget the growing steer;
Water the land with brooks and rills
For my cattle that roam on a thousand hills.
Now, O Lord, won’t you be good
And give our stock plenty of food;
And to avert a winter’s woe
Give Italian skies and little snow.
Prairie fires won’t you please stop?
Let thunder roll and water drop;
It frightens me to see the smoke—
Unless it’s stopped, I’ll go dead broke.
As you, O Lord, my herds behold—
Which represents a sack of gold—
I think at least five cents per pound
Should be the price of beef th’ year ’round.
One more thing and then I’m through—
Instead of one calf, give my cows two.
I may pray different than other men,
Still I’ve had my say, and now, Amen!
New Mexico’s Socorro Bullion, October 30, 1886
Image via Encyclopedia of the Great Plains
David J. Wishart