OCR Text |
Show But I can't hold them against you, of course you wouldn't know- A smooth rock laying there sloping under a little fresh snow... A wash drifted over in winter; perchance a miniature lake, Frozen and covered quite cunning-are chances cow ponies take. That day the bumble bee stung you and you blamed it onto me; And dropping your head "moro pronto" you throwed me into a tree. I was mad as could be for a moment then I saw the welts on you And I thought, "Old boy, I guess you done about the same as I would do." Now we're up against a bad one, maybe riding to a fall; But I'll try to keep you, somehow... In spite of all their gall! I guess I will stake a homestead down here on Bitter Creek, And build for you a pasture that will keep you fat and slick. Away with useless horses-useless horses, if you please... They won't see your old bum ankle, Buck.. in grass up to your knees! Frank A. Brewer Cowboy Poetry From Utah 47 |