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Alone and abandonned,
Boarded up and closed down.
It sits perched on a hill, 
Miles from the nearest town.

It's seen many years of living, 
By tough men who worked the land.
It has even heard some music,
From a cowboys solo, front porch band.

The paint is chipped and faded.
The floor is full of cracks and holes,
Probably made by men, 
and their scuffed up, old boot soles.

Here the cowboys layed their heads, 
After a long days work.
The desert dust and smell of cattle,
in this building will always linger and lurk.

It has sat alone for decades now,
As it will in the years that follow.
The memories will fill the cracks,
Even if the building's hollow.

It's seen years of tears and laughter,
From ranch hands day after day.
It will remain a part of their hearts forever, 
Even though some have passed or are old and gray.

Although it will stay abandonned until it's in the ground, 
And see the lives of nothing, except maybe a mouse,
The years of life and memories will live forever,
In this dusty, old Bunkhouse.