COWBOY'S PRAYER - O, bueno, Adiós a todo esto (parte I) y no me enterréis en la pradera solitaria

Primero unas imágenes muy bonitas. Como un pene de mariposa en Nochebuena:

¿Y la tan cacareada oración? -Se preguntarán seis de ustedes.
Pues es de un autor desconocido. Es decir, tradición popular, en cierta manera.
Si quieres decir que entonces es de todos... bueno, es un poco cursi, pero colará.
¿Tuya? Tuya no es. Eso te lo puedo asegurar.


Oh Lord, I've never lived where churches grow.
I loved creation better as it stood
That day You finished it so long ago
And looked upon Your work and called it good.
I know that others find You in the light
That's sifted down through tinted window panes,
And yet I seem to feel You near tonight
In this dim, quiet starlight on the plains.

I thank You, Lord, that I am placed so well,
That You have made my freedom so complete;
That I'm no slave of whistle, clock or bell,
Nor weak-eyed prisoner of wall and street,
Just let me live my life as I've begun
And give me work that's open to the sky;
Make me a pardner of the wind and sun,
And I won't ask a life that's soft or high.

Let me be easy on the man that's down;
Let me be square and generous with all.
I'm careless sometimes, Lord, when I'm in town,
But never let 'em say I'm mean or small!
Make me as big and open as the plains,
As honest as the hawse between my knees,
Clean as the wind that blows behind the rains,
Free as the hawk that circles down the breeze!

Forgive me, Lord, if sometimes I forget.
You know about the reasons that are hid.
You understand the things that gall and fret;
You know me better than my mother did.
Just keep an eye on all that's done and said
And right me, sometimes, when I turn aside,
And guide me down the long, dim trail ahead
That stretches upward toward the Great Divide

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Sí, you caught me, bitch. Es importante porque la recita Johnny Cash, que se la sabía de memoria y encima la unió musicalmente a la balada "cowboy" más famosa de todas, "O Bury me not" y lo que sigue, de la que solamente entona un trocito. Como dejando entrever y entender.
Un hombre de matices. Eso es lo que era Johnny Cash.
Un viejo hombretón verde violador de raquetas.

(Y aprovechamos para introducir un sistema innovador: Youtube. Confiemos en que se convierta en una eficaz herramienta de difusión de cultura y cerámica almeriense).
Os vamos a saturar de videologías. Es nuestro trabajo:






Venga, la buena. A santiguarse en vano.
Mañana la quiero aprendida de memoria:



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Y de regaliz otra bonita del mismo autor vocal y moral. No sabemos si lírico también. No disponemos de tantos medios como el Banco Santander. Menudo banco, por cierto.



The cowboy's lady is cryin' tonight cause the cowboy is out on the range
Runnin' and ramblin' and chasin' some stray and good cowboys don't ever change
I tried to hold him in the home corral but the grasses were greener outside
So I'm gonna sit here in front of this door
And I've loaded up my cowboy's fourty-four
When the smoke clears there'll be a new brand on his eyes
This is my cowboy's last ride
Oh I hate to see him go but I won't be stayin' home cryin'
I hate to watch him die but this is my cowboy's last ride

Cowboy remembers the old trails we rode and he's back in the saddle tonight
This time I'm lettin' the homefires burn out and I'm leavin' when I blow out his light
Cause I still remember good waterin' holes and the places that are open and wide
And I have decied he won't put me down a filly should be free for horsin' around
And I will no longer be hobbled and tied this is my cowboy's last ride
Oh I hate to see him go...
This is my cowboy's last ride

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Todo esto lo vais a pagar. Algún día lo pagaréis, hijos de puta. Yo no me pego reclutando videos y acechando monjas y transportando letras 3 días y medio sólo para que facilitar vuestras masturbaciones.
2345-3456-7765-1246578231
Allí es donde lo vais a pagar. En el concepto de la transferencia poned: "Lavado de cerebro".
Pero a lo bien. Eh, muchachos. A lo bien.
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[Qué suerte que los tiempos han cambiado].