Bellevue, NE, Sarpy
by © Richard J. Budig 1996
I met an ol' cowboy out on the trail
Ridin' a bay with a star on her head,
An' tied on behind was a big ol' gray . . .
One-eyed, sway-backed, an' needin' some hay.
Now that's a fine filly yer ridin' says I,
But this one behind . . . he's a sorry ol' thing.
The ol' man moved his chaw an' spit,
An' looked at me so hard I thought I was hit.
Son, he says, I want you to meet ol' Dan.
No horse could touch 'im in his day.
Oh, sure, he's a sight . . . all bent an' broke . . .
One good eye, an' one full o' smoke
Lost it, he did, to an Apache war ax
A-haulin' my bones outa trouble.
In those days, son, ol' Dan could fly . . .
Carried me home all shot an' about to die.
An' that crooked scar along his shoulder . . .
From a big cat that wanted in my saddle.
Knocked me clean to the ground,
An' he and ol' Dan went round 'n' round.
Well, Dan reared up 'n' come down hard.
An' there we was, me an' him . . .
An' this time, 'twas me seein to Dan
An' gittin' him home as best I can.
The ol' cowboy chewed 'n' spit ag'in,
An' reached back and scratched ol' Dan.
"We're headin' south," he said, so Dan could hear,
"Where pastures 'r' sweet an' green all year."
An' then they headed out, goin' real slow
So as not to vex ol' Dan, I s'pose.
An' as they dropped over the far ridge,
A shaft of light crossed the canyon like a bridge.
An' I'd swear, from where I was sittin',
They walked right into that light,
An' ol' Dan -- well, I ain't lyin' . . .
Looked to me like he was flyin'.