Trail's End

I'm on my way to a different day A day of long ago. Where the buffalo roam And the long horns groan As down the trail they go. There isn't much time for them to graze The drovers push them hard But you can bet they're up to it Cause they're from Texas pard. Them old longhorns just duck their heads And push the ones in front And when they get tired of all that guff A fight will then erupt. The drovers they then step in To try and calm the herd If it doesn't work then there's a chance A stampede will occur. The day is clear, a good day to trail But the clouds they do watch Cause if a lightening storm comes up The first thing to do is get down from your horse. Circle the critters, try to keep them calm And if that doesn't work, All you can do is try and turn the herd And hope you get the final word. Joe took the lead, rope in hand He zeroed in on the leader He gave the rope a throw, tied hard and fast As he tried to take control. It was a chore, pressured from all sides, His horse was wearing thin Another group passed them by Boxing them both in. His horse did stumble, down they went An angel took his hand. Now Joe is riding herd for God In the Promised Land. Amen I attended the Chisholm Trail, End of the Trail celebration yesterday in Caldwell, Kansas. My grandfather and his brothers were well known Texas drovers hitting every trail from Texas to the Canadian border. They settled in the Sandhills of Nebraska where they played a large part in the early history of this land. But this was my first experience. It was really exciting even though it was a modern setting. I thank my editor for taking me along with her.