Cortez

"Cortez, Cortez, I love your name.
Wherever I go, no place will be the same."
They are the words to the song I wrote many years ago
As a teacher at Cortez High School.

On the streets I'd see the Navajo,
The squaws with papooses on their back,
Dressed in bright full-colored skirts,
Silver jewelry on their arms and ears
What a picture!

Then, lying to the east and west
The Ute Mountain, the sleeping Indian Ute,
Now covered with aspen and pines,
I breathe the crisp, cool air,
Know nothing can compare
To Cortez.