He was born and raised in black and white — where the wind blows hard across the Texas Plain — in Littlefield, Texas.
And wherever his travels took him across America, he was always proud to be from Texas, where Bob Wills was still the king.
He and his buddy Willie took us all to Luckenbach, Texas, where ain’t nobody feelin’ no pain.
He told us he was for law and order, the way that it should be. In the end, he thought that outlaw bit had done got out of hand.
He told us stories about folks making their way the only way they know how.
And he made us appreciate good-hearted women who love good-timing men.
It was his mama who said the pistol is the devil’s right hand.
He urged mamas everywhere not to let their babies grow up to be cowboys — because they’ll never stay home and they’re always alone, even with someone they love.
He always was different, with one foot over the line; winding up somewhere one step ahead or behind.
He saw preachers and pushers selling the same thing — high.
But in his own way, he was a believer. He believed in a loving Father, one he never had to fear.
We know he’d always been crazy, but it kept him from going insane.
Hard to believe Waylon Jennings has been gone 10 years this week. I miss ol’ Hoss.