Afore I saddle up an' ride off into the night,
I thought I'd post a poem for your post mortem delight.
Reincarnation: The Cowboy's Poem by Gail Irwin
"What is reincarnation?" A cowboy asked his friend.
"It starts," his old pal told him, "when your life comes to and end.
They comb your hair and wash your neck and clean your finger nails, and put you in a padded box away from life's travails.
Now the box and you goes into the hole that's been dug into the ground. Reincarnation starts in when your planted 'neath that mound.
Them clods melt down just like the box and you who is inside,
and that's when you begin, your transformation ride.
And in a while the grass will grow upon your rendered mound,
till someday upon that spot a lonely flower's found.
And then a horse may wander by and graze upon that flower,
that once was you and has now become your vegetated bower.
Now the flower, the horse done eat, along with his other feed,
makes bone and fat and muscle sinew, full essential to the steed.
But there's a part that he can't use, so it just passes through.
And there it lies upon the ground, this thing that once was you.
And if per chance I should pass by and see this on the ground,
I'll stop a while and ponder this object that I've found.
I'll think about reincarnation and life and death and such,
and I'll come away concluding....
"Why....you ain't changed that much".