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I believe in our roots and heritage. I've got a story to tell.

We all need to stand up and protect the traditions and legacies we've inherited. I want to be an image for kids to look up to, and hopefully instill in them this same love of country and customs I know and respect. Without our  heritage, our children lose focus.

Without our children's focus, we lose our world.

                                                         T. J. Casey

About T. J. Casey

Selected Lyrics and Poetry

Book and Recordings

Web Site and Contact Information

About T. J. Casey

T. J. Casey is the real article. A rootin'-tootin', honest-to-goodness, bronc-ridin', calf-ropin' yodelin', singin', cowboy poet/songwriter. He is indeed a rare breed. T.J.'s travels take him from his beloved "Blue Montana Skies" to excited crowds all over America, who anxiously await his unique brand of entertainment.

T. J. is not just a show business creation. He is not a gimmick. T.J. is the real thing, so real in fact, that he was selected as a model for the renowned 2002 Quick Draw Competition at the 34th Annual C.M. Russell Auction in Great Falls Montana. T. J. is published in The Big Roundup, an anthology of the best classic contemporary cowboy poetry in America.

In addition to his dozens of national awards for singing, songwriting and western poetry, his performances on the Louisiana Hayride are still remembered by millions for his rendition of "Cowboy's Paradise," one of the best known contemporary western swing songs of our time. His latest CD, "Blue Montana Skies" features many of his well known songs including "Trickling Water."

While not on the national circuit, T. J. spends his life in the saddle and on the ranch as a real working American Cowboy. Being a certified Veterinarian Technician, he has delivered more calves and doctored more horses than he can remember.

T. J. is a member of the Academy of Western Artists, Western Music Association, and The Rocky Mountain Association of Fairs.

T. J. works with many arts groups and organizations, including: Alaska State Council on the Arts, Nevada Arts Council, South Dakota Arts Council, Montana Performing Arts Consortium, The Writers Voice, Wyoming Arts Alliance, Arts Northwest, and Montana 4-H.  See his web site for more about T. J. Casey.

See our feature on TJ Casey's school residencies program, From the Ground Up


Selected Lyrics and Poetry


Jingle Bob

Not Without a Fight

I Was Raised

The Story of the Cowboy

The Corral


Old Friend

In the Cowboy Hall of Fame

Wagon Wreck

'Cuz the Cowboy, He's Still Here

I Don't Want to Just Survive by Arthur L. Cantin

The American Cowboy

The Same Home on the Range

Jingle Bob

Well, I knew a man named Jingle Bob,
A damn good buckaroo,
He'd rode in many places,
Some of which I knew,

With eighty feet of gut line,
He rod an "A" fork saddle too,
He could ride and rope with any man,
And run a brandin' crew,

It was way up in Wyoming,
Where the snow gets deep they say,
He hired on the JS Ranch,
To keep the wolves away,

With a saddle strong and ol' pack horse,
He left the ranch that day,
He didn't know that when he mounted up,
He wouldn't be back that way,

Jingle Bob was a hell of a hand
He could ride most anything with hair,
And always for the brand,
Jingle Bob was the last of a dyin' breed,
There'd never be no more of his kind,
Cause, he never left a seed,

He was ridin' for the line camp,
To check his traps and ware,
When he stumbled on a carcass,
Been mauled by a grizzly bear,
Well, his horses, they stampeded,
Left him standin' there alone,
That day he crossed a sacred path,
A hundred yards away from home,

Well, Jingle Bob knew horses,
And he knew they wouldn't go far,
So he stood his ground and waited,
Til the show of the evening star,
Then the hair stood up, upon his neck,
And he glanced off to his right,
Out of the brush came a grizzly bear,
Lookin' mean in the evening light,

Jingle Bob was a hell of a hand
He could ride most anything with hair,
And always for the brand,
Jingle Bob was the last of a dyin' breed,
There'd never be no more of his kind,
Cause, he never left a seed,

Grizzes eyes were red, his mouth was wide,
He was movin' in to kill,
Jingle Bob he stood his ground,
Cause he knew he'd be runnin' up hill,
Well he drew his sixgun, and he shot six times,
He gave him all he had,
But it didn't stop the grizzly bear,
It only made him mad,

The griz came down on Jingle Bob,
There's not much left to say,
Well, now you know why Jingle Bob,
Won't be back that way . . .

Jingle Bob was a hell of a hand
He could ride most anything with hair,
And always for the brand,
Jingle Bob was the last of a dyin' breed,
There'd never be no more of his kind,
Cause, he never left a seed,

1999,  T. J. Casey
These words may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.


Not Without a Fight

The price of cows, is mighty low,
The price of feed is high,
The cowman shakes his weary head,
And looks up to the sky,
He prays he'll make another year,
Altho he don't know how,
The bank won't loan no money,
On one more head of cow,
It's been a way of life for him,
This family operation,
He hoped that he could make it thru,
Just one more generation,

He'd seen it when the years were good,
And he'd managed things just right,
But now, no matter where he turns,
It's more and more a fight,
He wonders, should I sell it?
Or just dig my heels in,
He knows he came out good before,
But his patience is runnin' thin,

There's government regulations,
They change it every day,
Why, there's things he can't do on his own damn place,
At least that's what they say,
Then there's all these big investors,
That's buyin' up the land,
They're makin' bird preserves and such,
Now isn't that just grand!

Hell, most of his neighbors sold and left,
or lost it and went belly up,
"What should I do?" he wonders,
As he takes a sip from his cup,
He's never quit before,
Why should he do it now?
Even tho prices are up,
Except of course for cows,

Why can't the cowman take a stand?
It's time to change this mess,
It's time he tells 'em just how he feels,
Instead of bein' depressed,
Stand up, by god, it's time they knew,
What they're doin' isn't right,
If they think they're gonna get this place!
It won't be without a fight . . .

1996 T. J. Casey
These words may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.



I Was Raised

I was raised in a country with cattle and horse,
cowboys and good buckaroos,
where the grass was as tall as a high hosses belly,
and water ran clear and blue,
Yes, water ran clear and blue...

I was raised in a country we all knew as heaven,
as close as a man could be,
with mountains and grasses and horses and cattle,
as far as the eye could see,
As far as the eye could see...

I was raised in a country where a man kept his word,
and everyone knew it was true,
Where the shake of a hand was the way to do business,
that was the way that we knew,

I was raised in a country where everyone neighbored,
and helped when we needed a crew,
Where we'd all get together and help out in bad times,
that was the thing to do,

I was raised in a country with moose, elk and grizzly,
and maybe a rabbit or two,
Where the winters were cold and you ate lots of gravy,
biscuits and wild meat stew,

I was raised in a country that's going thru changes,
where folks are now heartless and cruel,
and it's sad to see everything going to hell,
because money and greed are the rule.....

T. J. Casey
These words may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.


The Story of the Cowboy

Driftin' like the prairie wind, with no special place to go,
Where it really all began, I guess we'll never know

The story of the cowboy, made his mark in history,
Just where he really came from, is still a mystery,

Some say he came from Texas, I tend to disagree,
Others say he came from Spain, now that, could surely be,

from vaquero, came the cowboy, and then the buckaroo,
Then wadee of course, and twister, they're in the stories too,

How can the history books be so sure? none of us was there,
and how come with a life so pure, is the cowboy so dang rare?

Now the good lord put us on this earth, to do a certain deed,
and we have to show what we are worth, as we're a special breed,

He didn't say where we were from, and where we're suppose to go,
he put us here upon this earth, to do a job, you know?

we're suppose to be God's servants, the stewards of the land,
So why is there so much doggone fuss, about who's the better hand?

So whether you're from Texas, or from Montana land,
you don't have to prove a thing to show who's the better man,

All you have to do is work, and get the job done right,
cause there isn't any certain rules, tho some folks think there might,

Some folks think that thirty foot, is the length of rope to use,
while some use shy of a hundred, there ain't no special rules,

You work the way you learned it, and do the best you can,
cause the good lord's right behind you, each and every man,

He gave us all a talent, to help each other out,
Not to see who's better, but to prove without a doubt,

That all can work together, and live in harmony,
and all can love each other, that's how it's suppose to be,

So next time you've a yearnin', to put somebody down,
stop and think about it, afore you rub it in the ground,

Cause all of us is different, just the way it's suppose to be,
and it really makes no difference, at least, not to me,

Cause I don't care just where you're from, just so you do your job,
and I don't care how you do it, or if your name is Joe or Bob,

The point I'm makin' people, is true and oh so clear,
the good lord put us on this earth, and that's why we're all here,

So get down off your high horse, and show the lord above,
That it's not yourself, but folks around, and him you really love........

T. J. Casey
These words may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.


The Corral

I sat for a spell and pondered,
at this sun bleached rack of bones,
I thought of the hands that had come and went,
In the years that had come and gone,

The posts were aged but standing,
the rails were broken and bent,
If that set of corrals could tell a tale,
I'll bet there was quite an event,

About that time, that very thought
had crossed my wondering mind,
A slight breeze blew out of the west,
And chills went up my spine,

And then, I saw a vision,
A bronco, lathered and wet,
And off to one side, a tall lean man,
A cowboy you could bet,

And there on the fence, grim faces,
Of men I never knew,
Hard eyed stares at the man and the bronc,
As the tension grew and grew,

The cowboy stepped to the bronco,
The horse just glared, wild eyed,
The cowboy tightened up the cinch,
Then stepped up in for the ride,

The clouds began to gather,
A storm was moving in,
The sky was as black as a cows insides,
And the air was sticky and thin,

A gust of wind blew hard and fierce,
And again, I was standing alone,
Staring hard at the settling dust,
And that sunbleached rack of bones,

Time has passed, and often I think,
Of the vision that came to my eyes,
Was it the thought of days gone by?
Or a spirit that passed thru my mind,

It's quiet now, and most of the time,
I sit and ponder alone,
But my mind still wanders and takes me back,
To that sunbleached rack of bones......

1997, T. J. Casey
These words may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.



It's a hard thing when we lose a friend,
and this story I will tell,
Of a hairy four-legged friend of mine,
that I had known so well,

He was jumpy and scared of everything,
when I first brought him home,
He was skinny and oddly mistreated,
And I was livin' alone,

So, I pet him and pampered and fed him,
Til he started gaining my trust,
Hell, I could'nt go to the bathroom,
Without him throwin' a fuss,

Well, I had him a coupla weeks I guess,
I just started to call him Luke,
When I reached out to pet him, he jumped back,
So I said "I'll name you Spook,"

The weeks went past, and man o' man,
He stuck to me like glue,
He was starting to work cows real good,
I did'nt need a crew,

It was like he was a natural,
All bite and no bark at all,
He'd get those cattle to moving,
why, we was just having a ball,

I guess a coupla months went by,
And this outfit I was on,
Was talkin' about me farmin',
And I was'nt into that,

So we packed our stuff, and headed out,
For another cowboy place,
Don't think it bothered ol' Spook one bit,
by the look upon his face,

In fact ,when I found an outfit,
It was just a coupla days,
Me and ol' Spook went right to work,
Right back to our regular ways,

Well, everything was goin' just fine,
Except for the boss's mutt,
He and Spook did'nt see eye to eye,
That dog was a pain in the butt,

He did'nt like other dogs ridin',
With him in the back of the truck,
So he'd nip and bite and bully,
That's when ol' Spook ran out of luck,

We was going to move some cattle,
10 miles to the old home front,
Was a wet and cold and snowy day,
when we went out on our hunt,

There was'nt much room in the front of the truck,
So, I put ol' Spook in the back,
And I kinda think that other dog,
Already had a plan of attack,

Well, I watched pretty close thru the first two gates,
And everything seemed just fine,
But then I got to shootin' the breeze,
And it kinda slipped my mind,

When we got to where we were going,
I jumped out to open the gate,
Spook was'nt any where in sight,
Somehow I knew he'd come to his fate,

I called and whistled a minute or two,
In hopes that he'd come up the trail,
But there was'nt no sign, not hide nor hair,
And I guess I turned some pale,

So me and Jerry gathered cows, and started back to the place,
When I asked the boss if he found ol' Spook,
There were'nt a good look on his face,

He said, he found him in the road,
The trailer'd run over his head,
My whole damn body just kinda went numb,
I could'nt believe Spook was dead,

They say in life, you get one good dog,
Well,I guess ol' Spook was him,
Cause since I've lost my little friend,
My outlook is kinda grim,

I know if there's doggie heaven, Ol' Spook is probably there,
Awaitin' for his master,
and giving me that stare,

And if there was another dog,
Grand champion of the dukes,
He could'nt hold a candle,
To the one that I named Spook.....

1999, T. J. Casey
These words may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.


Old Friend

Old friend, we traveled together,
Worked side by side, on the range,
Seen trouble in all kinds of weather,
And seen this old world, go thru change,

But friends, we've remained thru the hardships,
And friends we'll remain til the end,
I'm glad we still have this friendship,
And proud to still call you, "OLD FRIEND".....

1998, T. J. Casey
These words may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.


In the Cowboy Hall of Fame

He started in Montana,
And started young I'd guess,
To ride for fame and fortune,
To be one of the best.

He spurred 'em hard and rode 'em high,
A Champion he became
Dan Mortensen's by Casey Tibbs,
In the Cowboy Hall of Fame,

Folk's said Dan couldn't do it,
Casey couldn't be out rode,
But heart and soul and lots of class,
And miles down the road,

Six world titles later,
Dan's made himself a name
Dan Mortensen's by Casey Tibbs,
In the Cowboy Hall of Fame,

Practiced and determined,
He traveled down the road,
He knew he'd be a champion some day,
Ridin' hard and stickin',
We watched 'em all explode,
Six times with dough and buckle, Dan and Casey walked away,

Now folks, this here's a story
Of two Cowboys tried and true,
Who'll ride this land forever,
This great red, white, and blue,

Some folks think they're heroes,
But they're Cowboys just the same,
Dan Mortensen and Casey Tibbs,
In the Cowboy Hall of Fame.

2004, T. J. Casey
These words may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.

T. J. writes: This song is dedicated to the men and women in this country who choose to keep our Roots and Culture alive.  Whether you rodeo or you're a Cowboy in some cow camp in the brush, you are still one and all, An American Cowboy, without hard work and dreams, this country would have folded long ago.

You help keep the spirit of the West alive.

Ride On and God Bless You All.


The Wagon Wreck

I was just a young man,
Thirteen I would guess,
Dad and Steve and I were gatherin' posts,
to fix some fence,

We had a buckboard wagon,
Still had the old spring seat,
We'd sit up there like teamsters,
That was purdy doggone neat,

Steve and dad were in the truck,
The wagon hooked behind,
I was sittin' on the seat,
Without an axe to grind,

We'd gathered all our posts and poles,
And were headin' back to work,
When suddenly we hit this bump,
And I felt this awful jerk,

A geein' and a hawin',
I paid no attention,
What happened next, I had no clue,
It was'nt my intention,

I had'nt noticed anything,
Until I looked to see,
The wagon were'nt attached no more,
And dad and Steve were leavin' me!!

Of course, that did'nt last too long,
I was really gaining speed,
Whoa!!" I said, "You son of a ..."
But, I were'nt hooked to any steed,

Here I was a sittin',
On this wagon run away,
No way to stop, I had no brakes!!
I was gonna die today!

The wagon's really rollin',
Goin' fast as hell right now,
Careenin' thru the sagebrush,
SHOOT! I'm gonna hit a cow!

No way to turn or stop this thing,
I'm runnin' outta luck,
Lookin' for a place to bail,
I pass the old fence truck!!!

The tongue is skidding on the ground,
Just like a ski on snow,
And I have'nt found the fortitude,
To find a place to go,

Finally,I'm a thinkin',
God, please bless my soul,
When the tongue, it finds this little groove,
And hits a badger hole,

The wagon, it comes to a stop,
This just is'nt fair,
I was tryin' to find a place to jump,
Now I'm flying thru the air!!

I'm bracin' for the sudden stop,
It's gonna hurt like hell,
My mind is racing, so am I,
Then suddenly I fell,

My whole dang body's achin',
I'm tryin' to catch  my breath,
This little mario excursion,
Could have been my death,

The worst, it is'nt over,
As I finally take a stand,
My pride is about to be trampled,
By dad and the other hand,

They watched the whole thing from the pickup,
And both are now on the ground,
You'd a thought they both was hurtin',
By the way they was rollin' around,

That time in life is over,
And now, it's funny as heck,
How many folks nowadays can say,
" I was in a wagon wreck!"......

10/15/2003, T. J. Casey
These words may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.


'Cuz, the Cowboy, He's Still Here

Sometimes I sit and wonder
as I stare up at the sky;
listening to the distant thunder
and a lonesome coyote cry.

I'm thinkin'... if the Cowboy's gone
then why am I still here?
There must be something awful wrong
with these stories that I hear.
You see, I live here in this line camp
and tend to 1500 head.
I ride all day whether dry or damp
and a bedroll is my bed.
Every now and then they bring me grub
when it hasn't rained too much;
and the beaver damn, well that's my tub,
for takin' bathes and such.
I string eight head of horses
and everyone I shoe.
These stories...who are your sources?
I know it can't be true.
They say the Cowboy's come and gone
a vision of our past.
What in the hell are these folks on...
or dare I even ask?
Maybe I'm just dreamin',
to wake up I would dread;
all these stories, its sure seemin'
like the real Cowboy's dead.
If I am, must be in heaven
with this beauty that I see;
if it is, then I ain't leavin'
this is where I want to be.
Grass is to my horse's belly;
the calves are slick and fat.
If I'm dreamin', someone tell me,
so I'll know just where I'm at.
All these stories that I'm hearin'
'bout the Cowboy bein' gone;
they ain't true, 'cuz that's my rearin',
dawn to dusk and dusk 'til dawn.
Tell me, I ain't a Cowboy
and I'll darn sure set you straight.
Tell the youngsters comin' up, oh boy,
you'll be packin' up yer freight.
I don't know, where you got yer stories
but you better lend an ear;
in this country, we have no worries
'cuz, the Cowboy...he's still here!

2005, T. J. Casey
These words may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.

T. J. shared "I Don't Want to Just Survive," along a poem written by his father, Arthur L. Cantin.  T. J. told us "My father was one of the finest cowmen that came from the Northwest, and in some parts is a real legend. Dad was a fine horse trainer, Cowboy, rancher, and managed large cow outfits all over Montana, Wyoming, and Oregon. Dad is sorely missed daily, and though my brother Leo and I have followed dad's footsteps as far as our lifestyles and love of the West, we could never honor him enough for what he taught us growing up."  

In Memory of Arthur L. Cantin  1937-2002

I Don't Want To Just Survive

I don't want to just survive
I really want to live,
I've just survived all my life
Now I'm thinking positive,

Bust my butt for just enough
To pay my bank and bills,
Now's the time to add some spice
And fill my life with thrills,

I'll do the things I want to do,
As they come to mind,
Explore all the possibilities
And see what I can find,

I know I'm getting older
And life has passed me by,
Now I'll take it by the horns
And stare it in the eye,

Horns in hand and eye to eye,
A vision do I see,
Of my life before this time
Stampeding in front of me,

I saw the things I done before,
And all the trails I've rode,
All the places that I've been
And all the oats I've sowed,

I've worked cattle all my life
And seen the miracle of birth,
And in the spring,
When birds come back
I've smelled of life from earth,

I've ridden some salty hosses
And had my share of wrecks,
I've seen the time that I bucked down
And even broke my neck,

I've been up at 2 A. M.
To saddle up my horse,
And then he'd try to kill me,
Or maybe something worse,

I seen the cattle that I've doctored,
The ones I saved, and ones I lost,
The hardest thing I had to do
Was explain it to the boss,

I've done things that most vets do,
Like caesarians and such,
And standing here and looking back,
I haven't missed that much,

I've run wild horses in the Pryor's
When I was just a kid,
I learned to rope and dally
Like the old timers did,

I've been through hell a time or two,
But I've always made it back,
Because the Lord was on my side,
He gave me lots of slack.

Well, the visions fading,
I let the horns go, and closed my eyes.
Somehow I had this feeling,
That I'd been hypnotized.

The thrills that I was seeking,
Was done all in the past,
And I think the spice was there,
Now I'll have to make it last.

I stood there with a silly grin,
To think, I was going
To change all that.
I'm going to do what I like to do,
Till I die with my boots on,
And probably my hat...

September, 1988 by Art Cantin 
These words may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.




The American Cowboy

From the rolling hills of Texas,
To the high Montana plains,
Came a man who herded cattle,
Through the sun, deep snow and rains,

A man as tough as leather,
Long before Gene and Roy,
A hero of this great nation,
The American Cowboy

A man who forded rivers,
Rode through many a mountain pass,
To get cattle to the railhead,
and to keep 'em on good grass,

Rode across this western nation,
In winter, spring, summer and fall,
The Great American Cowboy,
Folks', I'd say he's done it all,

The cowboy is a major part,
Of why this country's free,
He stands for what this country is,
With pride and integrity,

The real cowboy is honest,
He knows what's wrong from right,
He stands for good, and God above,
He won't back down from a fight,

Now, the cowboy, he won't cut and run,
He'll dang sure stand his ground,
Whether it be beast or storm or common man,
To the western code he's bound,

Get ready folks', he's comin' back,
It sure fills my heart with joy,
To see a total resurrection,
Of the American Cowboy.......

                    God Bless The Cowboy

2005, T. J. Casey
These words may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.


The Same Home on the Range

I remember those days, and the stories we heard;
‘round the campfire out in the sage.
The stories passed down on the wings of a bird;
as our heritage turned a new page.
I sat and I pondered my mind gone a tussle;
since the old times much hasn’t changed.
Me and Will James and ol’ C.M. Russell;
have shared the same home on the range.

I was raised in this country
we know as Montana;
I’ve been here, since I was a child.
From the Big Horns to the Pryors,
round them deep lonely canyons;
we were young, we were bold and plumb wild.

We rode those rank ponies
and gathered wild cattle;
on the dryhead just above the divide.
Some mornings was easy,
and some hang and rattle;
back then we all learned to ride.

I was raised up on venison
down on the border;
Wyoming and Montana home.
Some things I won’t mention
when you just can’t afford ‘er;
it’ll cause a young cowboy to roam.

Had whiskey for breakfast
and coffee at dinner;
there were times I knew I could fly.
But I always held steadfast,
whether loser or winner;
and I’ll look you right square in the eye.

Reminiscing I wonder
where the good days have gone;
wish that I was a young man again.
Then I look over yonder
and watch the first dawn;
could I ride like I did way back when.

(spoken word)
Well, I saddled my pony
and I stepped up aboard;
my mind raced me back to my youth.
For all the times I was lonely,
I’ve not one bad word;
sure am glad them old boys told the truth.

2008, T. J. Casey
These words may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.


Read TJ Casey's Cowboy Christmas Time posted with other 2005 Christmas poems


Ridin' Out in our Art Spur Project


Books and Recordings



Man of the West


From the publisher's description:

Man of the West takes you on a journey through time and throughout the country from Alaska to Montana. TJ Casey's poetry and stories take you back to the good old days through today as he shares the ways and thoughts of the modern day Cowboy. His poetry will motivate, amuse and entertain you. Complimenting the book are a collection of photos, quips, musings and the periodic profound ramblings.

 “The West” may be only a mystical phrase to you...a fantasy caught in the web of your childhood movie memories. Or it may be a place and a lifestyle you’re intimate with. Fit either of these profiles, or fall anywhere in between, and you are guaranteed to enjoy TJ Casey’s new book MAN OF THE WEST. Ride along the river of TJ’s words and experience it for yourself...you’ll be glad you did!
Rhonda Sedgwick Stearns

Man of the West is available for $12.95 plus postage from https://www.createspace.com/3494048 and www.tjcasey.net, and for $15 postpaid from Cowboy Enterprises Inc, P O Box 31676, Billings, MT 59107, 406-245-0734.



A Cowboy's Thoughts in Rhyme

The official news release, May 2005:

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: TJ Casey releases Cowboy Poetry Book

(Billings, MT)  TJ Casey's A Cowboy's Thoughts in Rhyme cowboy poetry book has been released.

The book contains over 30 poems that TJ has written about his life as a cowboy and how he feels about the changing of the West.  Does the true cowboy, with his independent spirit, exist in today's world?  TJ addresses this question in his poetry.  He paints a picture for readers to see the serious and humorous ways in which a cowboy handles the day to day trials and tribulations associated with living out on the range.

TJ Believes that our West was built upon the culture of the American Cowboy. Disturbed by the disappearance of this important history, TJ has taken it upon himself to pass on these traditions to future generations.  He devotes a lot of his time working with the schools in Montana, North Dakota, and Alaska teaching western/cowboy culture and cowboy poetry as part of artist in residence programs of state Arts Councils.  He is also the Montana 4-H Project Leader for Cowboy Poetry in Yellowstone County.

His enjoyment comes not only from performing his own material, but also knowing that he is reminding people to not forget the independent spirit of the Western American Cowboy.  TJ Casey is a nationally recognized western swing singer/songwriter and cowboy poet.  He entertains all over the United States at fairs, festivals, gatherings, rodeos, conventions, and private parties. TJ performs as a solo, as well as with Partners on the Trail, Riata, or backed by the Rough Rider Band.

This goal underlies the uniqueness of TJ's art and he has been recognized for his ability to stand up for what he believes.  In 2005, TJ Casey has been nominated in the Top 10 Male Western Music and Western Swing Music categories with the Academy of Western Artists.

Also the music video "In America" is available on DVD.  This is the video that has been aired on a national network, RFD-TV.  The song "In America" is off his Blue Montana Skies CD, which is one of the Top 5 Western Swing CDs.

Meet TJ Casey on the web and purchase his new poetry book A Cowboy's Thoughts in Rhyme and the music video "In America" at www.tjcasey.net.  Keep an eye out for his new CD Pure "d" Cowboy, coming soon.  For further information contact Cowboy Enterprises at 406-245-0734.

A Cowboy's Thoughts in Rhyme is available for $15 postpaid, from www.tjcasey.net, by phone at  406-245-0734, or by mail from Cowboy Enterprises, PO Box 31676, Billings, MT 59101

Pure 'D' Cowboy

The official news release, September, 2005:

WHO: T.J. Casey, "Montana's Singing Cowboy"

WHAT: New CD, Pure "D" Cowboy, and single, "It's In My Blood"

WHEN: September 2005

WHERE: www.tjcasey.net

WHY: He just can't stop writing and singing songs!

HOW: Montana Cowboy Records, (406) 245-0734 or info@tjcasey.net

"Montana's Singing Cowboy," T.J Casey, has just released the long anticipated follow-up to his celebrated western swing debut, Blue Montana Skies.  This more traditional acoustic album, titled Pure "D" Cowboy, is a Montana-made cowboy classic.

T.J. combines his talent as a cowboy poet, and his talent for ropin' a wild and free melody, and presents his fans with a dozen new songs about authentic cowboy life in the west.  He single-handedly wrote all but one song ("Old Can Man" with words by Val Prophet), and there's not a downer in the wagon.

A real live working cowboy, T.J. is respected for his horse training as much as his performing.  He devotes a lot of his time working with schools in Montana, North Dakota, and Alaska teaching western/cowboy culture and cowboy poetry as part of artist in residence programs of state Arts Councils.  TJ is also the Montana 4-H Project Leader for Cowboy Poetry in Yellowstone County, Montana.

Pure "D" Cowboy was produced and engineered by John Westbrook of Westco Music and Sound (Belgrade, Montana).  He is a performer in his own right (www.cowboyentertainer.com) and plays lead and rhythm guitar, and bass on the album.  It also features several other Montana musicians, including multi-award-winning fiddle
player Tim Todd, and Laura Wilson on accordion.  T.J. plays rhythm guitar and sings back-up vocals, along with vocalists Laura and Andy Wilson, and Alice Hanks of the western duo SaddleBags.

The single from the album, "It's In My Blood," features special guest Joseph FireCrow, courtesy of Makoche' Records (www.josephfirecrow.com).  Native American flutist FireCrow is a member of the Northern Cheyenne Nation of Montana and is a past Grammy nominee and winner of two Nammys (Native American Music Association awards).  It is a seamless musical collaboration between Cowboy and Indian.

This has been a busy year for T.J., with the release of his first video, "In America," a new book of cowboy poetry, A Cowboy's Thoughts in Rhyme, and over 100 appearances throughout the country.  Visit www.tjcasey.net for upcoming tour dates.

For further information, contact Cowboy Enterprises at (406) 245-0734 or info@tjcasey.net.


Blue Montana Skies

Includes 12 original songs:

(My Only) Turtle Dove

Golden Memories

Call of the Wind

Blue Montana Skies

Cowboys Lullaby

Trickling Water

Sleepin' Out Under the Stars

In America 

Cowboy's Paradise

He's Ridden

It's Sure Lonely on This Old Highway

I'm Not Convinced


Listen to a sample at T. J. Casey's web site

Available  for $20 postpaid from:

Cowboy Enterprises
P O Box 31676
Billings, MT  59101

or see order information at T. J. Casey's web site for non-US orders and electronic and toll free ordering



Contact Information



Cowboy Enterprises
P O Box 31676
Billings, MT  59101




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