Category: Cowboy Poetry

TURTLE BOOTS

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TURTLE BOOTS

I bought a pair of boots one time
made from an old sea turtle’s hide
The prettiest boots you ever saw
but a little bit tight along the side

I figured it would only take a while
to break these babies in just right
and in the meantime at least I’d have
the pleasure of taking them off at night

Now a hundred years don’t seem long
to an old sea turtle, or his next of kin
but it appeared it was gonna take that long
to break those miserable damn boots in

I tried everything to ease that constant pain
I soaked ‘em, I oiled ‘em, I bent ‘em, I boiled ‘em
If anyone had suggestions, no matter how wild
I got out those boots and sure enough tried ‘em

But those son of a guns just continued to pinch
I couldn’t get them to move 1/16th of an inch
wild thoughts of destruction started filling my day
but the boots were too pretty I’d just give them away

I gave them to my younger brother first
by logic his feet should be smaller you see
but after a month or so he gave them back and said
he just couldn’t accept all that charity

So I gave them away to friend after friend
but I guess gratitude ain’t what it used to be
and the results were always the same in the end
I got those turtle boots back, but I mostly lost
the friend

and every time I got them back
I’d put them on and wear them a while
and never could figure how one pair of boots
could cause so much pain and still have so much
style

But I gave them at last to a chiropractor down in
Texas
and I didn’t get ‘em back, so I expect he’s got ‘em
beat

because if he can’t adjust those boots
he can always adjust his feet

BUFFALO CHIPS

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BUFFALO CHIPS

Lily pads floating
on the sea of prairie grass

Heat for the tepees
or the homesteaders cabin

Nothing wasted in the West

And every boy knew
that a good sharp stick or a pointy toed shoe
would let you know
if one was just right, or still a little too new

And I’m here to tell you, that compared to a
good dry chip
meeting a West wind’s invitation

A Frisbee is a weak and poor, plastic imitation

POETS PILOTS AND COWBOYS

Audio Recordings, Cowboy Poetry, Pilots, Poems about Poetry / tagged , , , / / by

POETS PILOTS AND COWBOYS

A poet will try to dissect the world
and he’ll try to show you each part
and he’ll write it all down with a pen
that he’s dipped in an old carin’ heart

While pilots have the eyes of a hawk
and a strut in the way that they walk
and they give all that’s in them to give
and they live every moment they live

And most cowboys are gentle not loud
and they’re not all that good in a crowd
and they talk like they’re about half asleep
but what they know boys and girls
they know deep

GOOD OLD BOYS

Audio Recordings, Cowboy Poetry, Personal Growth / tagged , , , , , / / by

GOOD OLD BOYS

For years you’ve been cleaning up your act
But now the good old boys are coming back

And the guy they’re coming back to see
Is the good old boy that you used to be

You broke some broncs and drank some
beers
And played tough football in those
years

Cruised to front and back seat double
features
And took big guns to kill small timid
creatures

Since then you’ve passed through many a
door
But can’t say to them. I’m not that person
anymore

Of course they may have changed too

But how oh how could they tell … You

THE OLD BLUE PLANET / BLUE ROAN

Audio Recordings, Cowboy Poetry, Environment / tagged , / / by

THE OLD BLUE PLANET / BLUE ROAN

She’s been rode hard
and not put away yet

She’s got a bad scraped hide
from a long rough ride

She’s been secticided and pesticided
and damned sure blind sided
with more spray and dip and hot feed
than any ten could stand or need

So think about loosenin that cinch a bit
and givin her a good long rest
and a deep drink of that old cool water
from the spring she likes the best

And stop that “Greenhorn” spurrin
whatever else you do
or you’re gonna have a good horse
dead under you

THE OLD DRY GUY AND THE BATH

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THE OLD DRY GUY AND THE BATH

The old timers were all settin around the general store
I think they’d been there forever or a few days more
hocking up gossip and spit and an occasional snore

And as it’s always been in the West of the East
the one who knew the most said the least
He had a face like old harness and one bad eye
to myself I called him “the old dry guy”

Late January one year the old boys were a buzz
old Jeb had got scalded and burned off some fuzz
He’d been bathing in his kitchen in the old tin tub
and reached across for the kettle to warm up the rub
slipping he’d spilt it and lost some skin and some hair
and the boys were all speculatin’ how much and where

They’d talked it around for about three hours or more
when the ‘old dry guy’ moved in his chair by the door

They all got real quiet and leaned closer to hear

He said

“Serves the damn fool right, takin a bath this time of year”

GRASS FED

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GRASS FED

Shakespeare knows what we gotta do first
but let’s get rid of the feed lots next

Oats was made for breakfast
and corn was made for whiskey
cows was made for eatin grass
and calves for runnin frisky

Surely not for standin around
burstin their livers on a lot of hot feed
that they don’t need, and we don’t need

The beef might be
a little tougher to chew
but our hearts and our jaws
would soon be back to as good as new

And it might
come in real handy
not to be steroid de-sexed
when it comes to what we’ve gotta do next

TOO CROWDED

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TOO CROWDED

My folks took some time off in the sixties
from their Saskatchewan ranching and
traveled down through South Texas

One day they stopped to talk to an
old cowboy sittin and a wittlin
on a rickety ranch porch

When he found out where they were from he said
“Say – do you know a man up there
by the name of Bill Prior?”

They said “Yes, he’s an old bachelor who lives up
past our north pasture, why do you ask?”

“Well” he said, “About 1928 Bill and I are out lookin
for some strays when we see another rider
coming over the furthest hill.”

Bill said to me, “It’s getting too damn crowded
down here, I’m heading for Canada”

“He turned his horse North and I haven’t
seen him since”

I NEVER SAW MY MOTHER ON HORSEBACK

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I NEVER SAW MY MOTHER ON HORSEBACK

I understand that
she used to ride to school
but she was little and it was a farm
and somehow that didn’t seem to count

When she was about 75 she told me
about going with dad to the far end of the ranch
on a beautiful day a long time ago
to help round up some strays

She said that she liked it a lot
and couldn’t remember why she didn’t do it more