Yesterday's Hat
by Sam Kiefer, 1998

He looks across the arena dust, the flag ol' glory waves; hat in hand he thinks of it and returns to younger days.

That first old hat his dad brought home -- the joy and pride it gave him; little did he know at four the road his dad had paved him.

It started out with a birthday hat -- the beginning of a lifestyle that will pull your stomach inside out, and at the same time make you smile.

The first few years you wear this hat pulled down over your ears, to concur all the sheep turned out, and do battle with the steers.

High school, college, amateur -- each year the new hat came, to replace the one from last year past on your way to certain fame.

Now it's time to wear the hat, the one the big boys wear, to wear it proud among the few, you to the gold shall share.

The anthem is over and the time grows nearer to nod your hat one more round. To ride one more bad one, to chase one more buckle that will get your career off the ground.

It's one of those things that can't be explained why something from straw or felt can cause a young boy to die an old man panning the gold for his belt.

THAT DAMN BROWN HAT
By Sam Kiefer

Thanksgiving dinner's over, and we walked out to the barn -- A family tradition at Granny Johnson's ranch and farm.

I stood between the dusty rails lighting up the stall, And tried to put some logic on a hat nailed to the wall.

I said, "Old man, please tell me sir, what this is all about? That hat looks pretty old, but it's far from plain worn out."

I cannot figure why a man would take a brand new hat, nail it to the wall, and treat a felt like that.

The old man looked straight at me and said, "Have a sit down now, and I'll tell ya bout a birthday hat -- the where, the whats, the how.

Your Grandma, how I love her, anyone will tell you that, but on this fateful birthday, she bought me a damn brown hat.

I'd known that woman 40 years, give or take a day, and the only hat she'd seen me in was one that's black or gray.

I told your Grandma thank you and I put it on my head, though I knew a brown hat was as unlucky as sittin' it on the bed."

Cowboys like my Grandpa are as tough as a pine knot in a gate, but wearin' yellow and brown hats is just tempting your bad fate.

But Grandpa loved my Grandma, and as I listened he explained, how he'd have to wear that damn brown hat and smile through his pain.

Now fate and luck some says the same, and bad luck is just that, But on this fateful birthday ... they blamed it on the hat.

Grandpa and his brother, a horse race and a fence, Speeding horses trying to stop... it made for great suspense.

Grandpa's horse went through the fence, and the old barn laid him flat, And the words echoed from Grandpa's lips --

"I'LL BURN THAT DAMN BROWN HAT."

Well, the story's told throughout the years about Grandpa's broken pride, so he nailed that hat to the barn in place of Grandma's hide.

The Master's Plan
By Sam Kiefer

I draw a mental picture of the way of life for me, A pasture full of horses that only spirits see.

An angel there among them, I'm ridin' for the brand, Working clouded pastures in the ever after land.

My herd of broncs are legends, rodeo was their fate, Now their hooves are pounding thunder as St. Peter pulls his gate.

Outlaws here in heaven, they dodged the Devil's tack, They wont be bucked down below to fill ol' Satin's slack.

I pushed my wild remuda away from Hell's front door, Into a grand arena constructed by the Lord.

Rounded up one last time for their biggest Rodeo, To meet old cowboys head to head for a sold out Friday show.

I draw this mental picture that some wont understand, But a show like this in Heaven was all the Master's plan.