Ya know what, Sorcha? I was so ill about the time my dad died, I had forgotten that we, his kids, did not do the obit, his wife did. We did pay for the following to be printed, along with a "Memoriam" from all of us, which we were fine with paying for:

A Cowboy's Prayer

   Oh, Lord, I've never lived where churches grow.
   I love creation better as it stood
   That day you finished it so long ago.
   And looked upon your work and called it good.
   I know that others might find You in the light
   That's sifted down through tinted window panes,
   And yet I seem to feel You near tonight.

   Let me be easy on the man that's down;
   Let me be square and generous with all.
   I'm careless sometimes, Lord, when I'm in town,
   But never let them say I'm mean or small!
   Make me as big and open as the plains,
   As honest as the hoss between my knees,
   Clean as the wind that blows behind the rains,
   Free as the hawk that circles down the breeze!

   I thank you, Lord, that I am placed so well,
   That you made my freedom so complete;
   That I'm no slave to whistle, clock, or bell,
   Nor weak-eyed prisoner of wall and street.
   Just let me live my life as I've begun
   And give me work that is open to the sky;
   Make me a pardner of the wind and sun,
   And I won't ask a life that's soft or high.

   Forgive me, Lord, if sometimes I forget.
   You know about the reasons that are hid.
   You understand the things that gall and fret;
   You know me better than my mother did.
   Just keep an eye on all that's done and said
   And right me, sometimes, when I turn aside,
   And guide me on the long, dim trail ahead
   That stretches upward toward the Great Divide.

   Badger Clark "