"Headed down the road each summer with a few
good goats of mine, never made much money Lord, its hard to make a dime. The entrance fees they took my dough, the traveling took our time, now we're headed home, to Our Sweet Wyomin' home. "
(chorus) "Watch the moon, shining in the sky Hear the tune, a prairie lullaby. Peaceful wind, the ol'
coyote cries, a song of home, Our Sweet Wyoming Home"
"My friends they all wish me luck, when we walk in the ring,
but the money's riding on that judge, and he don't know a thing! Oh there's shows in all
the cities but that ain't no place to stay, the goats get restless in their
pens they just won't eat their hay. They long for their green pastures, where they can run and play, so we're heading
home, to Our Sweet Wyoming Home."
Oh I'll always love the showing, there ain't nothin quite
the same, another year might bring more luck, the winning of the game. But there's a magpie on that fence rail and it's callin out my name, so we're headed home, to Our Sweet
Wyoming Home! "
the painting above was done from the photo below, taken on an early
Feb. walk in 2012. She named it "the Guardian", as the hungry Nubians were always under the watchful eye of our Anatolian
"Holly", and our token Saanen - SGCH desRughistelle "Nashville".