It laid out the rules of the range lands,
Though it wasn't set down in a book.
It lived in the heart of the cowboy,
Rode hard on each action he took.

It was carved by the winds on the high buttes.
It was burned on the range by the sun.
It was sometimes learned at the hangin' tree
Or taught by the roar of a gun.

A man never spoke "The Code Of The West."
He'd a had a hard time with the word.
He just went and lived it to the best that he could.
Out on the range with the herds.

A cowboy had to have sand in his craw.
True grit when he had to be tough.
Hell, that was expected. 'Cause life it was hard.
He smiled when the going got tough.

He didn't complain when a blizzard bit,
Or he rode for days without rest.
Or turned a stampede or buried a pard.
That was part of "The Code Of The West."

A man didn't need watching over,
His calling was a matter of pride.
He worked just the same by his lonesome,
As he did with the boss at his side.

A puncher was loyal to his outfit.
He'd stick by his brand to the end.
He was tongue-tied and gentle with women,
He never went back on a friend.

"The Code" was unyielding as granite.
It said that you beat a man square.
You didn't backside it it came to a fight.
You gave him a chance that was fair.

A cowman talked straight and was honest.
His handshake might buy a man's herd.
No lawyers or contracts, just gave him his hand.
A man was a good as his word.

So, here's to that old-timed cowboy code,
It still lives out here in the West.
The world might find, it if tried it today,
That cow country code's still the best.

A L Gordon