Dear Lord,

Yer lookin’ at a man who never learned to cook

Unless you count pork & beans

And a flowery grace like you’d read in a book

Is really beyond my means.


But You can believe I’m a thankful man

Though it might be undeserved

And I’ll eat whatever comes out of the pan

No matter what’s bein’ served.


I don’t take it lightly if it’s real good

‘Cause I’d eat it anyway

See I know there’s people, in all likelihood

That might not eat today.


So count me in if yer needin’ grace

And bless those who provide it

The farmers and ranchers, the bakers of bread

The loving hand that fried it.


But most of all, Lord, we give thanks to You

‘Cause we who work on the land

Know how much our harvest and bounty is due

To the gainful touch of Yer hand.


So bless this food and the life we embrace

And please forgive us our pride

When others with tables a-plenty say grace

For what we’ve helped You provide.

Baxter Black is a cowboy, veterinarian, poet and humorist. His website is www.baxterblack .com.

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