Mutton

At stringin’ fence I’ve done my share,
I’ve chased down cows and branded some,
At doin’ hard work, I’ll claim I’m fair,
But at throwin’ rope, there ain’t no hope.

I’ve missed my target all but once
While helpin’ Daniel shearin’ sheep.
Ol’ Charlie and I plowed into those runts
He’d cut them fine, I twirled the twine.

“Jus’ got lucky,” I say to myself now
As I recall the loop and the fatal jerk.
Ol’ Charlie must have thought he had a cow
And I’ll be damn, if we didn’t kill that ram.

So the moral to this story is this:
If you go ropin’ sheep, rams or ewes
It’s best if your mark, you jus’ plain miss
Unless you’re a gutton for nothin’ but mutton.

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A Cowboy and his Bike

A cowboy pard’ner of mine,
Gave up his hoss for a bike,
When he moved to the city so fine
‘Cause his hoss, the city didn’t like.

The first day that he was there,
He was thrown in the city jail.
His hoss left droppings everywhere,
And cowboys don’t carry a scoop or pail.

So now that he’s finally free,
He rides that bike all about.
With his hat and boots you can see
He’s a cowpuncher without a doubt.

At first he was sad to the bone
When he gave up his jinglin’ spurs.
But he had to go that city alone
‘Cause hosses don’t wear no diapers.

A Tree for Camp

It was Christmas Eve, snow coming down
The Army was halted on frozen ground.
Soldiers on half-ration, coffee, hard tack.
Supplies were short, such an awful fact.

Lieutenant commands some season cheer,
Men wishing for barreled buttered beer.
Alas, he orders a squad deep into the trees,
Snow so deep, they thought they’d freeze.

Once they returned, behind them in jolly tow
Was pine tree for camp, their Christmas show.
Green was its beauty against glittered white,
Bringing them hope amid the coming fight.

Ever so gently it was decorated by hands,
Rough from living by any means they can.
A found ribbon here, color paper from there,
Carved figures, hand painted, hung with care.

All that was missing was Angel on top.
First Sergeant bellowed all work to stop.
Demanding feathers, chicken or ostrich plume.
If not, work details, to each man their doom.

It was a Corporal, who suggested the idear,
One both Privates and Captains like to hear.
They gathered as one, though it quite unusual
For Officers and Enlisted to break such a rule.

The Corporal said, “There’s a pair of boards
In camp on which to top the tree. They affords
Broad wings of silver and rest upon our Colonel’s
Shoulders.” Three cheers went up, hurrah, eternal.

Yet the Colonel had other thoughts so clear,
A single tin-type, his family, truly so dear,
Those more precious, where love dwells.
Ones he calls his God given living angels.

Come the morning, that Christmas Day
Company broke camp to make their way
To distant battlefields, leaving for all to see
A hundred Angels atop their Christmas tree.

A Time

I do not understand this metaphor
That crashes and smashes and thrashes
Through my waking daydreams.
I see him plain as a cloudless day,

The bronco buster cowboy man
With kack and tack and on hoss back,
Rolling with Hell-bound abandon.
It is like a child frolicking at play.

And I can never be like this one,
Just as free, just to be, just me,
For I do not comprehend myself
Wanting a time that has died died away.

Does Harry need Mental Health Help?

Senator Harry “Pinky” Reid has been in the headlines of Nevada the last couple of days. A recent statewide poll shows he would be defeated if elections were held today and if someone with solid name recognition came up against Pinky.

This comes after having received Reid latest book entitled, “The Good Fight: Hard Lessons from Searchlight to Washington,” and giving it a read through, one needs to ask has he ever been in a healthy state of mind? It appears not.

The book comes with pictures. They fall between pages 116 and 117.

One of the photographs shows Reid in his Capitol policeman uniform, next to the Nevada Cherry Blossom Princess. Next to her is Nevada’s Democrat Congressman Walter Baring. 

Jus’ so you’ll know Baring was Nevada’s only Congressman at the time, since it was such a sparsely populated state. Baring Blvd. in Sparks is named after him, though I doubt anyone but old timers know who he was to Nevada.

Anyhow, Reid claims that on the day President John F. Kennedy was assassinated Baring told him it was good thing as JFK was leading the U.S. into Communism. Obviously, Reid believes making the long-deceased Baring look bad, makes him look good.

Empty Space

There’s nothing to compare sittin’
In the remote manless place
Where God is your only company
And wind fills the empty space.

Lookin’down a mile into valley,
You see what life can turn to.
Imagination pictures younger time,
And you know exactly what you’d do:

You’d saddle up and ride away…
As you sit alone in a high place,
God is your only companion, wind,
His breath, fillin’ the empty space.