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Show MODERN COWBOY I have lived a wild life and I've earned what I've spent. I've paid all I've borrowed and lost all I've lent. I have worked on a cow ranch since I was a lad Out there in the Book Cliffs along with my Dad. Yes, I've worked these old ranges some fifty odd years Through branding and drifting and gathering steers. I have earned honest wages wherever I ride, Where there's fence to be mended or wild cows that hide, Or bulls with the hoof-rot or calves with pink eye. If they graze on the poison they surely will die But I'm always there with penicillin and dope To doctor that cow on the end of my rope. High up on the Forest the summers are fine. The cattle shade up in the quakies and pine And grass in the coulees is up to their knees. The calves grow like sixty and fat as you please While cowboys must doctor the sick and the lame And patch up the fences through sunshine and rain. We bunch each October in the cutting corral And some gent remarks, "I'm short one, old pal..." He'll bitch and complain until I get a hunch And find the lost cow in another man's bunch. No matter what happens, it's always my fault... Though I've worn out my pickup a-scattering salt. The low range is nice for a time in the fall Till winds begin blowing and cows start to bawl- They want to head south when it starts in to snow... They are thinking of haystacks and valleys below. And I know the signs, though I'm surely no wizard, I hump up my back and head into the blizzard. Now I'm in my sixties, my hair has turned gray- It was fun while it lasted-but sure didn't pay! For cold winter weather I've lost all desire, But ain't got the money to sit by the fire... So I'll follow these cattle wherever they go, And trail the last critter through two foot of snow! F. Allan Brewer 52 Cowboy Poetry From Utah |