Catalina's Milky Way Dreams(c) Re- Written 2024 - By The Depressed Poet, Doc Dalton
Shooting Stars and fast moving CarsRumble through the roads of my mindTick-e-ty Tock, the old sounds of the clockSay's it's almost a quarter past nine
The moons surely rising, the stars are a glidingAnd Mr. Sandman is ready to roamHurry off to bed and put your pillow under your headHe might just be visiting you tonight at homeDrifting off to sleep is such a wonderful featAdventures you'll enjoy on your ownMaking new friends on a journey to no endA secrete life that is yours all aloneDon't be afraid of those gobble lee goo'sOr those pirates drifting to sea on their boatsThere's no need to worry there just in your dreamsLike rainbow clouds and cotton candy floatsOh that sky's full of colors of make believe wondersExciting every step of the wayCan't you let me stay for just a little bit longerPlease, don't take my Dreams a wayTo see this through a child's eyesOn the path to where stars brightly beamThrough a different world of twist and twirlsWon't you come to my Milky Way DreamsWe could have so much funUnder an ice cream sun and laugh our time awaySing some M & M songs the whole day longUntil we awake to brand new day
Pluto say's hey kiddo don't get out of bedAs Snakel Puss laughs and says, ah it's OKKKKKKKKPopeye yell's, were gone in a minute after I eat me spinachPoo say's all aboard my Banana Split SleighOh that Sky's full of colors of make believe wondersExciting every step of the wayCan't you let me stay for just a little bit longerWorry not Catalina, we won't take your Dreams a way
To see this through a child's eyesOn the path to where stars brightly beamThrough a different world of twist and twirlsWon't you come to my Milky Way Dreams
Catalina say's, please come join me, on my Milky Way Dreams
The old cowboys will tell you there are two times a man ought to stop what he's doing. One is when the sun first breaks over the eastern hills. The other is when it disappears behind them. Both belong to God.
Out on the range, life has never been easy. The mountains don't care how tired you are. The wind doesn't ask if your back aches. Cattle wander where they please, horses lose their footing, storms come without warning, and there are nights when the only sound is the lonely howl of a coyote somewhere beyond the campfire. Every sunrise brings another list of chores. Fence to mend. Horses to shoe. Calves to find. Water holes to check. Miles to ride. It is a life that teaches a man humility. The range has a way of reminding you that no matter how strong you think you are, there is always something stronger. Yet through all those miles of saddle leather and dust, most cowboys know they are never really riding alone. The Lord has always had a way of watching over those who make their living beneath an open sky.
Sometimes His protection comes in ways we recognize. A horse suddenly refuses to take another step, only to reveal a rattlesnake lying just ahead. A storm changes direction moments before reaching camp. A missing calf somehow wanders back home. And sometimes His protection comes in ways we'll never know. Perhaps He kept a falling tree from landing where we stood. Perhaps He slowed our horse just enough to keep us from riding into danger. Perhaps He simply placed another angel along the trail without us ever seeing him. Faith isn't always loud. More often than not, it whispers.
As evening settles across the prairie, the day's work finally comes to an end. Saddles are removed. Horses are brushed down. Coffee pots are traded for a small bottle of good whiskey. Boots find their place near the fire, and tired old hands finally get a chance to rest. The sky turns shades of orange, crimson, and deep purple as another day quietly slips away. That first sip of whiskey isn't about getting drunk. It's about slowing down. It's about remembering. It's about thanking God for another day He allowed us to ride. Then, almost without anyone saying a word, someone begins to hum an old hymn. Amazing Grace. One voice becomes two. Two become four. Before long, rough voices that have shouted across canyons all day now sing softly beneath a sky filled with more stars than anyone could ever count. "I once was lost, but now am found..." Those words seem different when you're sitting beneath Heaven instead of inside four church walls.
Maybe that's because the Lord built the mountains long before He built churches. The campfire flickers. The whiskey warms old bones. Amazing Grace warms old hearts. Somewhere in the darkness, a horse snorts softly while another settles into the night. The wind carries the hymn across the valleys as if Heaven itself were listening. Perhaps it is. Cowboys have always understood something many people forget. Strength isn't found in never falling. Strength is found in getting back into the saddle because God gave you another sunrise. The toughest men I've ever known were also the quickest to bow their heads before supper. They thanked the Lord for every meal, every horse, every friend, and every safe ride home. They understood that courage rides beside faith. Neither one travels very far without the other.
Tomorrow morning, before daylight touches the mountains, they'll climb back into the saddle once again. There will be more fences to fix. More cattle to gather. More storms to weather. More miles to ride. And somewhere between sunrise and sunset, the Lord will quietly walk beside every one of them, just as He always has.
So if you ever find yourself out where the mountains meet the sky, and you hear the soft echo of Amazing Grace drifting through the evening air while a weathered cowboy holds a small glass of whiskey beside a glowing campfire, don't mistake the moment. The whiskey may warm the body. But Amazing Grace... has always been what warms the soul.
Out on the range, life has never been easy. The mountains don't care how tired you are. The wind doesn't ask if your back aches. Cattle wander where they please, horses lose their footing, storms come without warning, and there are nights when the only sound is the lonely howl of a coyote somewhere beyond the campfire. Every sunrise brings another list of chores. Fence to mend. Horses to shoe. Calves to find. Water holes to check. Miles to ride. It is a life that teaches a man humility. The range has a way of reminding you that no matter how strong you think you are, there is always something stronger. Yet through all those miles of saddle leather and dust, most cowboys know they are never really riding alone. The Lord has always had a way of watching over those who make their living beneath an open sky.
Sometimes His protection comes in ways we recognize. A horse suddenly refuses to take another step, only to reveal a rattlesnake lying just ahead. A storm changes direction moments before reaching camp. A missing calf somehow wanders back home. And sometimes His protection comes in ways we'll never know. Perhaps He kept a falling tree from landing where we stood. Perhaps He slowed our horse just enough to keep us from riding into danger. Perhaps He simply placed another angel along the trail without us ever seeing him. Faith isn't always loud. More often than not, it whispers.
As evening settles across the prairie, the day's work finally comes to an end. Saddles are removed. Horses are brushed down. Coffee pots are traded for a small bottle of good whiskey. Boots find their place near the fire, and tired old hands finally get a chance to rest. The sky turns shades of orange, crimson, and deep purple as another day quietly slips away. That first sip of whiskey isn't about getting drunk. It's about slowing down. It's about remembering. It's about thanking God for another day He allowed us to ride. Then, almost without anyone saying a word, someone begins to hum an old hymn. Amazing Grace. One voice becomes two. Two become four. Before long, rough voices that have shouted across canyons all day now sing softly beneath a sky filled with more stars than anyone could ever count. "I once was lost, but now am found..." Those words seem different when you're sitting beneath Heaven instead of inside four church walls.
Maybe that's because the Lord built the mountains long before He built churches. The campfire flickers. The whiskey warms old bones. Amazing Grace warms old hearts. Somewhere in the darkness, a horse snorts softly while another settles into the night. The wind carries the hymn across the valleys as if Heaven itself were listening. Perhaps it is. Cowboys have always understood something many people forget. Strength isn't found in never falling. Strength is found in getting back into the saddle because God gave you another sunrise. The toughest men I've ever known were also the quickest to bow their heads before supper. They thanked the Lord for every meal, every horse, every friend, and every safe ride home. They understood that courage rides beside faith. Neither one travels very far without the other.
Tomorrow morning, before daylight touches the mountains, they'll climb back into the saddle once again. There will be more fences to fix. More cattle to gather. More storms to weather. More miles to ride. And somewhere between sunrise and sunset, the Lord will quietly walk beside every one of them, just as He always has.
So if you ever find yourself out where the mountains meet the sky, and you hear the soft echo of Amazing Grace drifting through the evening air while a weathered cowboy holds a small glass of whiskey beside a glowing campfire, don't mistake the moment. The whiskey may warm the body. But Amazing Grace... has always been what warms the soul.
