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     The Darlin' of Eastland

Copyright © 2002, Michael Sorbonne Robinson

While drivin' the critters from Dove Creek to Moab
I watered in Eastland, on the ol' Johnson spread.
The Johnsons were farm folk, well-known for their kindness,
And they offered me grub and a night in a bed.

Might' tasty, the vittles--a spread fit for gentry.
I savored each forkful, had a slice of both pies.
But the darlin' of Eastland sat there, 'cross the table,
And no meal could compare with the feast of my eyes.

She's way out there in Eastland, 'tween nothin' and nowhere;
I'm adrift with the herd, but my heart can't be free,
'cause way out there in Eastland, 'tween nothin' and nowhere,
is the somewhere, where I long to be.

I fretted all summer in the Geyser Pass meadows,
Lookin' down on the red rock and longin' for love.
I carved Debra's name in the bark of the aspens,
'cause I'd found me a heart that fit mine like a glove.

Like the sparks, driftin' high from my lonely encampment,
Each night my thoughts soared to our tender embrace.
As the moonlight poured over the peaks and the pine tops,
I dreamed of the day I'd, again, see her face.

She's way out there in Eastland, 'tween nothin' and nowhere;
I'm adrift with the herd, but my heart can't be free,
'cause way out there in Eastland, 'tween nothin' and nowhere,
is the somewhere, where I long to be.

Well, that summer dragged on, like the flow of molasses,
But the critters got plump, so I made me some dough.
Then hell-bent-for-leather, to the darlin' of Eastland,
I asked for her hand, but the answer was "No."

...Said, "I love you for sure, but a cowboy's a roamer,
and I can't stand the thought of my man, never there."
So I hung up my spurs, and I farmed with her Papa,
'cause the darlin' of Eastland was my only care.

She's way out there in Eastland, 'tween nothin' and nowhere;
I'm a plowin' the fields, and it's heaven to me,
'cause way out there in Eastland, 'tween nothin' and nowhere,
is the somewhere, where I love to be.

When the shadows are deep, in the Blue Mountain canyons,
And the horse head's*asleep, on the breast of the pine,
Cuddlin' up on the porch, when the young 'uns are sleepin',
I rejoice that the darlin' of Eastland is mine.

She's way out there in Eastland, 'tween nothin' and nowhere;
I'm a plowin' the fields, and it's heaven to me,
'cause way out there in Eastland, 'tween nothin' and nowhere,
is the somewhere, where I love to be.

*The "horse head" is the well known land mark near Monticello, Utah, on
the East slope of the Abajo Mountains, also known as the Blue Mountains of
Utah.  It's just a few large scars in a pine-covered slope, but looks like
an elegant horse head and neck, and is particularly easy to see when there's
snow on the 10,000' rise.  Eastland, itself, sits about half way between
Monticello and Dove Creek, Colorado.  My wife, Debra, is a former Johnson,
and was raised on the Eastland spread.

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