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Show I just sat there as he galloped away, As effortless, easy, as a scare't coyote, And I watched the ground beneath that bay, Over which he seemed to, so airily, float. I sat there long on my jug-heated gray, Though I had miles to go to complete my ride; But I made up my mind, somehow, someday, I'd have me a mount I could ride with pride. It's been forty-five years and I'm still a-hopin', I'll find me a mount like that bald-faced bay. I confess, sometimes, I even start mopin', But I just won't settle for a jug-head, Be he bay or gray. Frank Lemon JUST A POOR COWBOY Out by a western waterhole, one cold November day, Within a battered line shack, a banged-up cowboy lay. His comrades knelt beside him when with a drooping head, Softly and silently, here is what that cowboy said! "I think I'm going far away to a land that's fair and bright- And if you old stiffs will come out there, we can sleep out-doors all night. Where 'ham-hocks' hang from the bushes, and we never wash our socks, And little streams of ice cold beer come trickling down the rocks." Frank Lemon AfateW-% q£i (^fa*4<&VU Cowboy Poetry From Utah 97 |
