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Show I stepped right down and tied him then I brushed away a tear, he was just a wild old renegade, nothin' but a big, rough steer. My pard was usin' language that made the air turn blue, a tree had ruined his boottop and his leg was bleedin' too. It made me feel a little sorry, this last race we had won, the cow country's changin', I knew the time would come. The cow men's gettin' greedy and he's fenced up the range, when the baby steer are all captured and the cowboy's gettin' tame. Melvin L. Whipple Qftdbiu £,Uj~frU>^^ Cowboy Poetry From Utah 39 |