The Traveling Man's Guitar

The trusty guitar of the roaming man

Travelled here and there, with the caravan’s sway

Its strings strummed night and day,

Coins rattling in the rusted can.

'Til one fateful day,

The caravan was sent tumbling,

The guitar sent down the mountain crumbling,

Scratched on the rocks, in the middle of May.

There the guitar lay, shaken

‘Til an arm and hand reached ‘round

But quite a different life it found,

For its home became a cattle station.