Lance Alan Gray

Lance Alan Gray was born in San Diego, California in 1947. He passed away on Sunday, July 12, 2020.

Imagine if you will, large boots with skinny legs holding up such a big heart. There was no fluff about this cowboy. 

A man of few words, but those that count, his loving actions were more numerous.

Singing together from the moment they met, his love for his sweetheart was witnessed by all who saw them together. 

Resilient and relentless, if he was hard on anybody, he was harder on himself. 

He held no judgment toward the journeys of others, he only ever asked if you were going to do something, then do it well. 

His ability to learn, adapt and change was out of the love and respect he had for those around him. 

Lance enjoyed his life through observance and it reflected in his music.

As Lance would often pray, “Thank you for peace, love, music, health and prosperity. Thank you for this beautiful earth and everything on it. Thank you for this family. Thank you for Marlene.” 

In the loving response of his sweetheart, “Thank you for Lance.” 

He was a cowboy and rancher in Llano, NM.

He is survived by his wife Frances Marlene Gray. 

 

The Old Cow Man

I rode across a valley range

I hadn't seen for years

The trail was all so spoilt and strange

It nearly fetched the tears

I had to let ten fences down

The fussy lanes ran wrong

And each new line would make me frown

And hum this mournin’ song

 

Mhm, hear 'em stretchin' of the wire!

The urban brand is on the land

I reckon I'll retire

While progress toots her greedy horn

And makes her motor buzz

I thanks the Lord I wasn't born

No later than I was

'Twas good to live when all the sod

Without no fence or fuss

Belonged in partnership with God

Mother Nature and to us

Where skyline bounds from east to west

And room to go and come

I loved my fellow man the best

When he was scattered some

Mhm, closer and closer crawls the wire

There's hardly place to step away

And call a man a liar

Their house has locks on every door

Their land is in a crate

These ain't the plains of God no more

They're only real estate

When my old soul hunts range and rest

Beyond the last divide

Just plant me in some stretch of West

Sunny, lone and wide

Let cattle rub the tombstone round

And coyotes mourn their kin

Let horses come and paw the moun'

But don't you fence it in!

Mhm, far and farther flings the wire

To crowd and pinch another inch

It's all their heart's desire

The world is overstocked with men

And some will see the day

When each must keep his little pen

But I'll be far away

While progress toots her greedy horn

And makes her motor buzz

I thanks the Lord I wasn't born

No later than I was

~Don Edwards