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Open Poetry #14

A Piece of History

John Yaws
Senior Member

since 1999-10-09

Posts 860
Texas

0 posted 2001-06-13 12:48 PM

The kids all called him “Rawhide”-
In their making fun...
The old cowboy ignored them,
When he’d sit there in the sun.

A few of us admired him-
As we listened to his tale.
He’d tell about his younger days,
Out on the Chisholm Trail.

He’d say, “You oughta seen then longhorns,
Their spreads were six foot wide.
A thousand pounds of ornery,
Crammed in a spotted hide.

They’d run fer any reason-
They was a crazy breed...
I don’t recall a season...
That there wasn’t a stampede”.

He told about the trail drives-
Doan’s Crossing, on the Red.
Outlaws, storms, and Indians...
Of losing many head.

Of cowboys who had fallen-
Before the raging steers...
Left sweethearts, mothers, longing-
And weeping bitter tears.

My parents told me, “Stay away-
From that old lying fool”.
But there were many times I spent-
With him while skipping school.

I guess it was in forty,
That the old man passed away.
Ten people there to lay a piece,
Of history ‘neath the clay.

Born in eighteen sixty-
Eighty years of age...
I learned more history at his feet,
Than from a printed page.

sans38
Member

since 2001-03-03

Posts 117
Westland, Michigan