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Show THE BALD-FACED BAY I was riding down a Utah ridge, Straddlin' a lead-footed stiff-jointed gray; I was feelin' as if I'd fell off a bridge, And my bones ached every step of the way. Then I spied a rider a-coming up-trail; He was ridin' a high steppin' bald-faced bay. He came breezin' along like a ship in full sail And we stopped to pass the time of day. We exchanged our views on the weather and news, While I noted the build of that beautiful bay. From his withers down to his size two shoes, And the stocking legs that seemed painted that way. The fine ears twitched as a rabbit loped by, But he stood like a rock, with never a stir. He had a lean, fine muzzle and a clear full eye, And I know he required neither bit nor spur. He was wide in the chest, but not too wide, Knees not too high and not too low, Not a scar nor a scratch on the blood bay hide, And I knew he'd been raised where the wild breezes blow. Said I, "How about tradin' me him," (In cowboy parlance, a compliment.) As I waited I noticed the riders eyes dim, And I had no doubt, he knew what I meant. "C'mon," said I. "I'd like to trade for him." The rider looked down, his face full of pride; And though his blue eye twinkled, his lips went grim, And he said-"Why I wouldn't part with a hair of his hide." Then he picked up his reins to get ready to leave, And the bay's feet danced as if treading on air. And my eyes bugged out-why, would you believe, He spun on a dime and left a nickle to spare. 96 Cowboy Poetry From Utah |
