Cowboy Poetry

Answer The Call

I was readin’ this article on change
in this quarterly here called “Range”
and it’s got my blood to boilin’

I’ve had years of constant exposure
to maintainin’ my quiet composure,
but now for a fight, I’m spoilin’

This story goes on to say
in a right dang hateful way,
“It’s not the cows we hate, but the cowboys who put them there”

I’m trying to draw your attention
with a call for intervention
in a little known battle bein’ fought everywhere

Our very simple way
of livin’ from day to day
is under attack by accidentally funded ignorance

With their misguided herd,
blindly trusting their word,
they’re coming for us all with a vengeance

Saving our country’s land
from the terrible rancher’s hand,
destroying it with his stock running free

This is what they sell,
wishing ranching straight to hell,
to people who don’t know you and me

They never got to know
your grandparents who loved the life so,
and how they cared for their land

How they guided with a force
their lives along God’s true course,
tireless with a strong and caring hand

Or your folks and their persistence,
how they fought for their existence,
just to pass this heritage on to you

So you could raise your family well,
and to them, the stories you could tell,
of those caretaker values that still hold true

If anything, a debt should be paid
to those hearty souls who stayed
and cared for “our” land all these years

While others were living the good life,
shunning struggles, hard times and strife,
getting fat on the ranchers’ steers

Many would not have survived.
They’d have packed and run for their lives
from a land that shows no mercy to anyone

The winter storms and snows
caused thousands to load up and go,
and the heat and dust of summer made many run

And still yet today,
most stay far away,
in the comfort of their city homes and half-acre lots

From there, they rally support
for lawyers and for court,
and for us all, they think they’ll call the shots

Well, wait just an “out west” minute,
we still have a congress and a senate,
and even President Bush runs a ranch

So saddle up your best horse
and we’ll let this thing ride out it’s course,
‘cause by God, we’ve got a fightin’ chance

When the times get hard,
I stand by my pard,
and together we’ve always gotten’ ‘er rode

The friends on whom I rely,
are chocked plum full of try,
and always ready to help tote the load

So don’t you dare lay down,
’cause for what we believe, we’ll stand our ground.
In a cowboy, you just can’t find quit!

It don’t matter the type of the fight,
as long as you know you’re right.
To the very end, we’ll give ‘er every bit!

There’s no finer friend
than I’ve found in the women and men,
who live their lives caring for their herd

It’s never hard to tell
when you’re travelin’ down their trail,
‘cause there, a man’s still as good as his word

So, if you’re a rancher or a farmer
or even a rodeo performer,
I’m sending these words out to you

If you live west or east,
fightin’ the urban sprawlin’ beast,
then it’s you I’m calling out to

If you watch western shows
or go to ranch rodeos,
for the cause, I hope you’ll lend an ear

Help spread the rancher’s news
and share your own views,
so others out there can hear

If you’ve made someone a hand
or maybe you’re a Gene Autry fan,
can you still hear the call?

If you remember your first pony ride,
or you’re just filled with American pride,
come and join us all

Maybe you board a horse
and ride the cross-country course
down at your neighbor’s place

Or maybe your best mount
just took the fastest count
at your local jackpot barrel race

You might be a saddle maker
or the home ranch caretaker,
in Idaho’s snow-covered Bitterroots

If your ridin’ career’s through,
maybe you’re doin’ what you can do,
helping out behind the buckin’ chutes

Don Edwards is your first choice
for a western singin’ voice
or maybe it’s Ken Overcast or Chris LeDoux

Maybe you’ve cowboyed for hire
or you’ll never lose the desire
to live the life of a Great Basin Buckaroo

Perhaps you’ve seen the Glacier Park lakes,
or camped along the Missouri Breaks,
and you’ve never been the same since

‘Round the fire, you pick a tune,
while your saddle pards commune,
‘bout ridin’ broncs and mendin’ fence

Maybe there’s been a time
you’ve heard these words that rhyme
from Waddie Mitchell, Paul Zarzyski or Red Stegall

God bless you the best,
for standing strong to this test,
if you’re keeping the faith and answering the call

If it’s you out there I’m trying to reach,
step up and take this chance to teach
others who want to know the truth now

I’m asking you to search and find,
see if something comes to mind,
pause a moment and give some thought to how…..

You can make a difference
and support the rancher’s perseverance

in a fight against greed disguised as conservation

For this is not the problem of a few,
as the opposition will tell you.
But, it’s a fight to save the heritage of our nation!

Jim Hawkins

Horse Buyin’

Is that horse $600 or $6,000,
Now which one did you say?
One o’ them figgers comes to more
Than I intend to pay

‘Course now, what is it that I git
Fer payin’ all that big money?
Am I gonna git him home
‘N he goes to walkin' funny?

Maybe he’ll step off the trailer
And skip ‘n dip ‘n slip
Or I’ll git screwed down on him
And he’ll do a back’ards flip

And what about mama back home,
Reckon she can ride him?
Or will he rare up and stomp her flat
Jest fer standin’ beside him?

I really hate to pay that much,
You see I ain’t been back out that long
I had to undergo major surgery
After buyin’ that last one “fer a song”

I just can’t go through that again,
That last trip near’ killed us all
Oh no, it weren’t the surgery,
That horse ran me through the barn wall

But I jest knew I was gettin’ a steal,
That lyin’ ol’ horse trader said so
Little did I know, when my tail hit the saddle,
That sucker was gonna blow!

Well jest ferget it, I’ll let you know,
But I think away I’m gonna walk
At least until me and my ol’ pard, Jim
Have had us a chance to talk!

Jim Hawkins

Buck, Banjo & Baldy

At a high lope, I rode across Square Butte,
Out on the Meissner Place
Chasin’ after a little Baldy stray
That got away in the chase

My heart was heavy with worry
And my spirits were all shot down
You see, my pard got busted up real bad
At the rodeo back in town

I saddled up early that mornin’,
Said when I got back, I’d look in
Now I was ridin’ and wonderin’
If I’d see my friend, Buck, again

The sun lay low as I pulled up to rest
At the foot of a rocky draw
Thought I caught a glimpse o’ somethin’,
Sure ‘nuf ‘twas my stray that I saw

She’d slipped off the trail and gashed ‘er hock,
The blood was on the flow
I stepped to my pack to fetch a bandage,
To wrap it and get it to slow

I doctored ‘er up, saddle packed ‘er out
And we headed back fer the camp
I took a likin’ to this little stray,
She’d handled that doctorin’ like a champ

So, I offered up a Cowboy’s prayer
To the Range Boss of all that’s free
I asked him to look out for this little calf,
Fer Banjo and fer me

Then I asked him to ride along with Buck
On his rough and rocky trail
To help him mend and git back on his feet,
To see that my pard got well

Well, me and ol’ Banjo carried Baldy
Into camp that night about eight
I eased ‘er down careful off Banjo’s back,
And hoped we weren’t too late

I called out the vet to stitch ‘er up
And to tell me what he thought
I told him she weren’t no quitter,
Cuz all the way home, she’d fought

As I sat there ‘n held that little stray,
I thought about my ol’ pard, Buck
I wondered if he was doin’ ok
And if the Lord had sent him good luck

Well, the vet looked ‘er over, grinned and said,
“I believe she’s gonna pull through”
Just then, ol’ Doc Wilkins dropped in
To say Buck was gonna make it too

Well, I tipped my hat to the Lord above
As I wiped away a tear
And I thanked him fer lookin’ out fer me
And all my pards down here

I knew that I was a lucky soul
To have so much that I love
Cuz I’d been blessed with a Cowboy life
That fit me like a glove!
Jim Hawkins

Old Faithful

She’s an old Resistol -- all battered and stained

She tells stories of heartache-and stories of pain.

There’s a rip in the back from a hoof in Arkansas

I had to leave her laying on the ground, while I scrambled up over the wall.

Then there’s that crooked crease that goes clean across the top-

I was flyin’ towards the turn- in gate-headfirst, and couldn’t stop.

she hit the mud in Reno-laid down and watched me fight-

hookin’—liftin’—reachin’---but the bull still won, that night.

she’s getting kinda ragged, and her threads are wearin’ thin-

but each blemish tells a story ‘bout the places she has been.

As far as pretty goes, she’s the nicest hat around,

If I could just keep her on my head, instead of on the ground.

Welty Lohr

Hangin’ on & Hopin’

Drivin’ all day long and sometimes all damned night

Sleepin’ in the truck stops, waking up with dawns first light.

I see the sun rise in Tennessee and set in New Mexico

We’ve been two weeks on the highway, and still have six more days to go.

I didn’t win on Friday, so my wallet’s gettin’ thin

But something tells me deep inside, that tomorrow night I’ll win.

‘cause as soon as I nod to call for that gate

Inside me there’s a switch-

And I go from just an ordinary man

To a bull ridin’ son-of-a-bitch

Welty Lohr

Honor of a Cowboy

Just a thought in passing, at 03:30 in the morning

We as parents have tried so hard to make things better for our kids that we made them
worse. For my grandchildren, I'd like better.

I'd really like for them to know about hand me down clothes and homemade
ice cream and leftover meat loaf, or the taste of potato sandwiches, I really would.

I hope you learn humility by being humiliated, and that you learn honesty
by being cheated.

I hope you learn to make your own bed and scythe the lawn, wash the car, saddle
your own horse, rope, bull dog and brand the steers in spring, milk the cow and feed the livestock, pull a calf that is hung, grease the windmill, ride a bronco, and fix a fence.

And I really hope nobody gives you a brand new saddle at the age of twelve a new car when you are sixteen.

It will be good if at least one time you can see puppies born and your old
dog put to sleep.

I hope you raise your own livestock, Till your own garden, Dig your own well.

I hope you get a black eye fighting for something you believe in.

I hope you have to share a bedroom with your younger brother/sister. And
it's all right if you have to draw a line down the middle of the room, but
when he wants to crawl under the covers with you because he's scared, I
hope you let him.

When you want to see a movie and your little brother/sister wants to tag
along, I hope you'll let him/her.

I hope you have to walk uphill to school with your friends, and that you
live in a town where you can do it safely, and I hope the school you go to wont penalize you for carrying your Winchester in the back window of your truck when you earn the right to drive and all you want to do is hunt after school.

On rainy days when you have to catch a ride, I hope you don't ask your
driver to drop you two blocks away so you won't be seen riding with someone
as un-cool as your Mom.

If you want a slingshot, I hope your Dad teaches you how to make one
instead of buying one.

I hope you learn to dig in the dirt, fly like an eagle, hunt like a cougar, be sly like a coyote, be brave like the bear, receive patience like a snake, have site like an owl, learn history listening to the old, learn to read books written by professors, speak when being spoken too, understand poems written by the lonely at heart, and write your own western novels.

When you learn to use computers, I hope you also learn to add and subtract
in your head.

I hope you get teased by your friends when you have your first crush on a
boy\girl, and when you talk back to your mother that you learn what ivory
soap tastes like.

May you skin your knee climbing a mountain, burn your hand on a stove and
stick your tongue on a frozen flagpole, skin your knuckles trying to loosen a bolt under the hood of Dads old Dodge, your Grand mothers carriage, or Grand Pa’s buckboard.

I don't care if you try a beer once, but I hope you don't like it. And if a
friend offers you dope or a joint, I hope you realize he is not your friend.

I sure hope you make time to sit on a porch with your Grandma/Grandpa and
go fishing with your Uncle, Ride your horse on a rainy day with your Pa, Set in a ground blind hunting an Elk or a Bear or a Deer for 9 days with out a shower with your Aunt, Sister or Son.

I hope you will experience setting your first trap, un-wrapping your first gun at Christmas, Riding the hills on your horse, sneaking up on ducks, chasing a coyote at full speed, catching a rabbit with a snare.

I hope you may feel sorrow at a funeral and joy during the Holidays.

I hope your mother punishes you when you throw a baseball through your
neighbor's window and that she hugs you and kisses you at Christmas
time when you give her a plaster mold of your hand.

I hope you never worry your mother or make your father look for you at 03:00 A.M.
Because you were careless and forgot to call, or send word by pony express, or
Carrier pigeon.

These things I wish for you - tough times and disappointment, hard work and
happiness. To me, it's the only way to appreciate life.

We secure our friends, not by accepting
favors, but by doing them.

You answer this riddle?

What is greater than God, More evil than the devil, the poor have it, the
rich need it, And if you eat it, you'll die?

Most people today can not answer this question because society has forgotten
What it is like to be a cowboy.

Thanks for your time it is early and I am old.
Mike Watson