Do you recall topin the canyon rim on a crystal clear winter
The full moon riddin' high--fresh snow lay soft and white.
The lamp in the bunk house window in the valley far below
Cast its soft yellow welcome on the freshly fallen snow.

The smoke curls from the bunk house chimney
But you still got a long way to go
Then you catch a whiff of the wood smoke
Thru the pine trees white with snow.

It stirs your blood and your memories
As you spur your hoss to a trot.
You smell the fragrance of the wood smoke.
You can't wait for that ol' coffee pot.

You recall spring round up at the wagon
When ol' cookie was fixin' some chuck.
The smoke an' the sparks was a flyin'
And your ol' pony broke into a buck.

Then there's those spring nites after branding
Burning hair and dust sting your nose.
You look at the stars from your bedroll.
The smell of wood smoke drifts from your clothes.

And the time we was camped on the desert
Where we ran out of wood for fuel.
An' ol' cookie starts usin' some cowchips
Man--that would give asthma to a mule.

The the times you were looking for cattle,
On the mountain--in the "pines" tall and thick.
When a fierce lightin' storm had just started a fire
Then the smell of pine smoke sortta makes you sick.

But most times the smell of wood smoke
Made you happy and really glad,
As it brought back so many memories
Of the best times you've ever had.

Like the great times after supper
And the boys would be spinnin' yarns round the fire
I've wondered if sniffin' too much wood smoke
Could make a honest hand a real Number One liar.

To a cowboy there ain't no store bought perfume
That he likes or smells half as sweet.
As when he's hungry as a halfstarved grizzly bear
And ol' cookie is cookin' with mesquite.

I was also thinkin' back to my boyhood days
When I was just a young cowpoke,
the fragrance of my mom's kitchen and
The smell of fresh bread, pies, and wood smoke.

Well--most all of these things are gone now
and young folks may think it's a joke,
When some of us older punchers get sentimental
About simple things like the smell of wood smoke.

And ain't it kinda funny
How in memory you can recall,
Things that to most seem unimportant
And to many they're worthless and small.

Now if you see an ol' cowboy round the campfire
With a far away look in his eyes,
Don't bother to ask him what's he athinkin'
He's not dreamin' up big windies or lies.

He could probably go on for hours
With his memories from out of the past,
All the hosses an' men that he's known
And how time flies so very fast.

He recalls the hoss tracks he's left on this land
And though now he may be rich or broke
All these long trails he's reliving now
As he gazes at the fire and smells the wood smoke.

Copyright 1998 Tom Thomas