DREAMING

As I stay in this camp of Fort Benning,
And gradually rot away,
My mind wanders back to Dakota,
To the sweetheart of then and to-day.
How we used to go riding on Sunday,
And everyone seemed to be gay. 
As she rode her high headed buckskin,
And I rode a hot blooded bay.
From our ranch to her's,
The distance wasn't far.
But it always seemed on Sunday,
George had to have the car.
It wasn't much of a beauty,
The family handed down,
Just a good old fashioned Ford,
To go smoochin' with in town.
So I had to cinch the saddle,
Onto my faithful bay.
To meet a girl on a buckskin,
Somewhere along the way,
The stars seemed to twinkle contentment,
The prairie with new mown hay.
Gave off a more pleasant aroma,
Than Cashmere Bouquet.
Tho cool soft wind of the prairie,
Seamed to whisper of love and bliss.
As our horses moved closer together,
So two young lovers could kiss.
And I'll never forgot the evening,
I heard my darling say
"I'll be waiting here on the buckskin,
If you'll come to me on the bay."
And I just can't help but wonder,
As I vaguely dream of the day,
When we go home together,
To our home in the West, to stay.
And if I had my life to live over,
And I could have my say,
We'd ride down the trail together,
like we did in the yesterday. 
With her on her high headed buckskin,
And me on my hot blooded bay.

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