Fable Of A Wrangler’s Daughter

Behold this wrangler’s daughter,
She wears her Stetson like a crown
Her Red Wings are a better fit than Cinderella’s slippers
Her Denim jeans cling close as rivers hold their banks
She ain’t stitched for gowns
She’s thunder in blue cotton and lightning in Ariat bangles
Kinda cowgirl, Morgan Wallen sings about
She don’t just set that field on fire
Burning up the whole prairie is her game
Mustangs and Maker’s Mark,
Walkin’ the line where beauty courts slaughter
No diamond ring could have bought her.