Chased Down

1997

The wind howled hard
An’ carried my father’s voice.
I did not want to listen
Though I had no other choice.

The winter blow comes bitter
An’ chills me to my bone.
I hear my father’s voice
With his unmistakable tone.

My horse paws the ground
As the wind bites an’ howls.
I push him to the ‘ole trail
With scratchin’ from my rowels.

He hears him too, like me, or
Does he sense my tension ’cause I fear it?
Bein’ chased down by a winter wind,
Or is it my father’s haunting spirit?