Warren Taylor

Warren Taylor

Greetings from north central Montana.  My name is Warren Taylor.  Ranching and music play a large part of my life.  I am a third generation rancher and time on the range gives me time to think about music and poetry.    Seeing Mother Nature in her benevolent mood or as she rages in a storm gives one a special perspective in life that I bring to my entertaining.  There is a time for a slow romantic tune and a time to kick up our heels.  I’m proud to be from the state of Montana and love to share my talent. With the encouragement of my friends I honed my skills and now play solo for any and all special occasions, Cowboy Poetry Gatherings (Lewistown for many many years) , and  play dances with some of the best musicians in the state in a five piece band. When the band needed a catchy name, that came easy, Standing six foot eight, and being the front man, the label in the neck of my shirt seemed fitting, thus ,the” XLT Country Band” . 
Originally music brought me to cowboy poetry gatherings.  Listening to the poets I decided to stretch my comfort zone and take a chance writing a poem.    I believe Cowboy poetry is an important bridge to our heritage helping audiences understand and value our western lifestyle.  As an entertainer, it gives me an avenue to pass on life lessons, joys and sorrows, and entertain like the cowboy story tellers that sat around a campfire.
When traveling on the highways and byways people sometimes ask me “Where’s yer guitar”?  Well it’s in the truck.  You take it everywhere you go?  Yep.”  Just like a “gun fighter”, a jam session might break out and I’ll have to defend myself!   Entertaining Bonnie Guitar around a campfire or providing entertainment for the largest landowner in the state I enjoy it all.  Have guitar will travel!
If not ranching or entertaining you’ll find me enjoying my daughters and grand-kids.  Or if I’m really lucky, kicking up my heels on the dance floor with my wife of many years Lori.  History plays a major part in our lives, owning a ranch that celebrated its 106th year in our family (entertaining inspiration) and wife Lori is the Curator at the Phillips County Museum. 
 Happy trails.
Warren Taylor
wltaylor@mtintouch.net406.658.218025208 US Hwy 191 S Malta, MT  59538

By Warren Taylor
Flash of lightning cross the big sky, thunder crashing shakes the ground
Shining mountains in the distance, cool, clear water coming down.
Golden eagles soaring overhead, pronghorns amble slowly by,
Night time finds a cowboy singing, underneath a crystal sky

She’s the home we call Montana
With a history tried and true
From the mountains to the prairies
Montana we love you

Yogo sapphires in the little belts , shiny gold in every stream.
She’s the jewel of the Rockies, every hungry miners dream
She’s nicknamed the “Treasure State”. We’re talking about her people too.
Cuz they never will capitulate and they’re loyal thru and thru

She’s the home we call Montana
With a history tried and true
From the mountains to the prairies
Montana we love you
From the mountains to the prairies
Montana we love you

By Warren Taylor
We was, northbound out of Denver, I can’t quite recall the year
We had 500 head of horses and about 1500 head of steers
We’d never run this trail before we’d hired on to move these cattle
Ours tails numb from many days, a sittin in the saddle
The strongest of the longhorn steers, was always pushin for the lead
Sleet and dust storms, blownin in, made our faces bleed.

We crossed some wild country, from Texas to Colorado
Through outlaw bands and renegades, but we knew we had to go
Montana grass lay up ahead, we pressed on even faster,
Knowing, that our fate was always, in the hands of the master.

At Cheyenne we had to stop a spell, wait for a herd of bison
They was, passing like a river, from horizon to horizon
It took three days then we pulled out, took all the strength
That we could muster
War parties ever on our minds, cause we’d all had heard about Custer

We crossed the little Big Horn though, and never lost a steer
Our hearts a little lighter now, destination gettin near.
One cold dark night, I’m riding graveyard, man oh man it was black
A band of outlaws used the darkness and started to attack

First shots rang out and spooked my horse, and it throwed me to the ground
Then like a war a thousand guns was blazin all around
Someone grabbed me by the arm, shoved something in my chest
I thought about my girl at home the one I loved the best

I could feel something cold, and shiny, layin by my throat,
Then the light came on and there she stood holding the remote,
She smiled and said its time for bed, you fell asleep again,
Think I’ve been watchin too much John Wayne, and too much CNN.

May it be God’s will, we meet again, we’ll see you next time.