I’m walking home from Hondo,
Without a penny to my name,
Just trying to reach D’Hanis,
Before I pull up lame.
I sold my horse at auction
Threw the saddle in the deal.
Then, I sold my F250,
So I could buy my kids a meal.
I’m walking home from Hondo,
Just trying to bear the pain.
If you want to ease my walking, Lord,
Just send me down some rain.
Thousands of raw acres
of prime South Texas land.
Mesquite, minimal water,
Fossils, fences and sand.
It’s a place to raise cattle,
With horsepower and sweat.
You can become wealthy,
It’s just not how to bet.
From the thousands of acres
Generations sliced off their share.
One ranch became ranches,
But nobody seemed to care.
The pastures were a man’s world,
There were no girls allowed.
There were many disappointments,
Some best not said out loud.
When I first visited the ranch,
It stretched as far as I could see.
Someone said, “That’s nothin’, son”.
“This used to reach to Uvalde.”
One by one, they moved to town,
It’s where they all belonged.
This could have been the King Ranch,
If they could have got along.
It’s almost always dusty,
Until the day you nearly drown.
And you’re going to lose your fences
When the Seco Creek comes down.
A dry creek bed is empty,
A failure at its task.
But when its name means “Dry”,
Water may be too much to ask.
Yet, the Seco Creek was running
On the night great-grandpa died.
Mourners rode through Sabinal
To come say their good-byes.
It’s almost always dusty,
Until the day you nearly drown.
And you’re going to lose your fences
When the Seco Creek comes down.
When the rains had finally finished
And the water levels sank
A car still needed horses,
Just to get across the bank.
There are fossils in the Seco,
Another ages’ souvenirs.
So there’s always been dry water,
It’s been flooding here for years.
It’s almost always dusty,
Until the day you nearly drown.
And you’re going to lose your fences
When the Seco Creek comes down.