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Open Poetry #46
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Gunslinger
Senior Member
since 1999-10-09
Posts 901
TX, USA

0 posted 2010-03-20 09:46 PM



I blew into East Texas, with my spurs, and boots, and chaps-
A suitcase and a bedroll, and not much more than that.
A yearning in my heart for places, I had never seen-
A cowboy in his twenties, who was bound to chase his dreams.

It soon became apparent that riding jobs were few-
And an aching in my belly told me I had best make do.
So I turned my hand to this and that, most anything that paid
For cowboy is state of mind, they're born, they're never made.

I chased across the country, and I finally found a ranch-
They hired me as a puncher, said they'd give me a chance.
I worked from daylight thirty to well into the night-
For fifteen bucks a long, hard day, and a house that was a sight.

The cracks in that old ranch house were so big and wide
You could sling a cat right through them, then follow him outside.
I worked there for a month or so before I even found
There were times to go to work, and times for shutting down.

I was stomped, and throwed, and rolled upon, by cows and horses too
I'd aged about a dozen years, when only working two.
I'd always beat the sun up, and quit when moon was high-
I stayed so doggoned tired, I'd a had to rest to've died.

The boss did me a favor, the way he seen it all-
I should have paid for getting to round up in the fall.
I should have worked for nothing, for such a jam-up boss!
By the time I sacked my gear up, it was all a total loss.

He cured my foolish notions, of a cowboy getting fat-
Or dressing without patches, and foolishness like that.
It was the darndest cowranch, this puncher ever see'd-
But now I know why cowboys are a dying breed.

© Copyright 2010 John R. Yaws - All Rights Reserved
viking_metal
Senior Member
since 2007-02-02
Posts 1337
In a Jeep, Minnesota.
1 posted 2010-03-21 03:46 AM


Ain't much fun being a real cowboy.

Fall in love early, fall in love often.

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