We’ve shared the trail, kicked up some dust,
An’ stood a storm or two.
We’ve rode the plains, the wide frontier,
The easy trails were few.
You’ve listened like some wise old sage
To ever thing I’ve said,
An’ as a friend, supported me,
No matter where it led.
I wished I coulda carried you,
The times you were in pain;
Or rustled up some kinda shed
To turn the blowin’ rain.
I’ve come up shy with some your needs,
You gave me more’n you got,
But in your silence, seemed to know,
I needed you a lot.
Compadre, friend, amigo, pard;
I called you all them things,
But there’s been times, I swear to God,
You musta had some wings,
An’ He sent you to care for me
Like no one had before.
If you’as a man an’ not a horse,
I couldn’t a-loved you more.
We gave this ranch our sweat an’ blood,
It’s yours as much as mine,
An’ raised our young’uns through the years,
An’ Lord they’re doin’ fine.
They’re blazin’ trails an’ raisin’ dust,
They’re off an’ runnin’ free.
We’ve taught ‘em well an’ made ‘em strong;
Compadre, you an’ me.
I always knew the day would come
When we would fine’ly ride,
To join the Maker’s round-up time,
Up on the Great Divide.
I sorta hoped we’d share the trail
But this was not to be,
So, you go on, we’ll ride again;
Compadre, you an’ me.
Long miles of tedious journey,
Missing my darling honey.
Travelling impatiently, spend thousands of
Hope god will bless me with ma lucky soul
at this season.
Equatorial island exploring its amazed
beauty, glittering with immersed grasses.
Wrapped by queens necklaced small lake
aside, at the outskirts of dalhousie.
My heart dwelled into its god gifted
When the night lime lighted,
Millions of stars scattered around
As if its was a wondering boon.
Lucky enough for landing with my next
Eagerly waiting for my heart chaser,
Girl passed near by, few seconds later.
Flaming beauty mould my soul.
Topped with innocence, ready for my
Her chic appearance,
Her innocent appeal.
Strucking heart raised with high beats..
Awaited for our romantic date in ma
Frequency of our nature matched.
Stolen Eyes of each other were catched.
Strings of our heart whistled
Everything had happened miraclelously.
I rebelled the three precious words of
Accepting my red rose, She blushed.
At event of recreation, campfire were
Nobody around us, private moments
between we two spotlighted.
Playing guitar, she sinked with every beat,
That's the coincidence our eyes again
Hand in hand danced with the soothing
Sparkling smile on her face beamed.
Getting closer to her, because of her
Expecting the light around us to be dim.
The romantic moment again came,
Flaps of my soul opened for the grand
She looked too pretty in her gold lame
My heart awarded her an order of chivalry.
Don't know who are you, but baby you are
the one, I am in love.
You live in me, You are my love
I feel you in my heart,
You are my world, I just cant stay apart!
Please don't hesitate, please don't lie,
Whatever you feel, my heart can buy!
Angel of life, Its just you.
Completeness in life can't be without you.
Wanna Carry journey happily together.
Tickling nose, Queenly beauty of my white
Hold my senses, its caught by you.
Don't let be just memories, wanna feel
ecstasy of love towards you forever.
Promising to hold your hand throughout
life in this lovely weather.
Will be your shadow, because your pain
will be mine.
Its destiny that our heart clicked a
snapshot of each other's soul.
Stopping by my question, Will you marry
me, my Kindred Soul?
or tired love?
and weak games
Look at you!
Your such a lame!
Me cry?! Ha! Not no more!
Five point five years
What a joke?!
All you do is lie
Keep smoking your life away!
Wake up before its too late!
Before this love turns into hate!
Your too old to act this way!
Your too comfortable
You cant stay!
In my life!
In my way!
Goodbye to you!!!
He was to be for my daddy, they'd said
as they scooped him up from the pick up bed
He was speckled & flop eared & soft as a sigh
My Daddy knew he had lost by the look in my eye
With his masked bandit eyes, only one name seemed right
Thus, Ringo, was christened that long ago April night
Part wolf, part samoyed, part collie & aussie
He would herd anything from small kids to old Bossy
Every morning he'd walk me to the school yard gate
Every afternoon he'd return & patiently wait
When I graduated from high school in June of ‘82
I argued with the principal that he deserved a diploma, too
Wherever I wandered he was close at my side
Through my childhood years, we roamed far & wide
We hiked every inch of the old Hilton Spread & the Total Wreck, as well
I knew to bring him in with me, when my daddy would start to yell
He moved quick & shadow silent & hardly ever made a sound
But just say the word "Ranch" & watch him come unwound
He loved to chase the rabbits & running with the 'yotes
Its to his credit that some coyote pups had speckled coats
I learned to trust his instinct when the fellers started to call
Why, when his hackles started rising, I knew to end it all
He'd step in between us & stare them down to size
Yep, if Ringo didn't like you, there would be no compromise
He's gone on across the Rainbow bridge where all good dogs abide
But he'll be waiting at Heaven's Gate, to fall in at my side
He taught me loyalty & trust, & that love never ends
For sixteen years, through thick & thin, We were the best of friends
I’ve seen a lot of tee-shirts lately,
That say “Get a Cowboy Attitude”,
But the fellows who were wearing them,
Appeared to be plain rude.
They think that being a Cowboy,
Is a swagger in your walk,
And a dip in your lip,
And a drawl when you talk.
They think it means a high dollar horse,
And a trailer with a tack,
And a forty thousand dollar pick-up,
With vanity plates on the back.
They think a seventy-five dollar shirt,
And a Stetson with a fancy band,
Are all that it takes to make,
The measure of a man.
But being a Cowboy,
Ain’t necessarily what you ride,
It’s what you believe,
It’s who you are inside.
It’s looking past the problems,
To further down the road,
It’s standing up for others,
And living by The Code.
It’s giving more than your share,
It’s doing what is right,
It’s knowing how to appreciate things,
By taste, or feel, or sight.
It’s knowing that it’s not necessary,
To be Politically Correct,
That either you do, or you don’t,
Deserve your ounce of respect.
It’s knowing the definition of Freedom,
The Responsibility that it brings,
It’s Heart and Soul and Strength and Grit,
And even more than just those things...
It’s wearing what is practical,
And even if you’re money poor,
If you really are a Cowboy,
You’re rich in Something More.
Because being a Cowboy,
Isn’t something that you learn,
It’s putting your shoulder to it,
It’s the one thing that you EARN.
So, when you see a fella’,
Wearing his “cowboy attitude”,
You can know that he’s a “wanna’ be”,
Or maybe just a dude.
As for the Real Cowboy?
Well, you’ll know him by the look in his eyes,
And he’ll be the one wearing plain clothes,
‘Cause he don’t have to advertise.
THE FOURTH OF JULY HAT
We used to celebrate July the Fourth when the kids were young—
Till they grew up and moved away and life became far-flung.
Yes, once we toasted freedom’s day and shot off big fireworks—
Now I sit here in this dark bar surrounded by some jerks.
We used to ride our horses on this Independence Day,
We barbecued and downed a few and for our nation prayed.
Then the show of fountains, Roman candles and Black Cat—
Till judges and town laws ruled: “You aren’t allowed to do that!”
Slowly the country lost its way and now it seems insane—
Shredding our constitution with rights of eminent domain.
Now Addie’s gone and I’m alone to tend to this old spread,
Till slickers come and crowd me off and I’m just left for dead.
Now holidays don’t mean too much and good times just don’t last,
I wonder if folks understand sacrifices of our past?
So on this Fourth I watch fireworks upon a bar room screen,
My wrinkled skin like leather now, but oh, what I have seen…
They’re playing our nation’s anthem and I’m sure liking that,
When some young tough rudely yells: “Cowboy, I can’t see through your hat!”
But I feel a bit stubborn and cling to what I have left
And sit there till he says, “Old man, are you a little deaf?”
Slowly, I take that hat off, and feel for something inside—
Then put on an old folded army cap with deep love and pride.
Then as the last fireworks fade, and loud rockets burst and whir—
That young man shakes my hand and says, “Happy Fourth of July, sir.”
There is an old unwritten code out here that’s truly not a myth—
He that is loyal to his brand: “He’ll do to ride the river with.”
Some call it just a handshake – but it’s the thing that we all know best—
They say it’s a code of ethics – we call it the Code of the West.
It is known as integrity – being generous to a fault—
An ancient Golden Rule that we all try to live by and exalt.
We love the land and treat it well and stir up no dust for others—
Fair play and close friendship are still dear, and we treat all like brothers.
We tip our hats to ladies, and know the true measure of a man—
We pay our debts and those of kin, and with our God know where we stand.
Yes, there is an old unwritten code out here that is not a myth—
He that is loyal to his brand: “He’ll do to ride the river with.”
I do not know?
So strong and self assured
He rides alone always wanting more
Never satisfied with what's between those fences
His spirit will wake up your wildest senses
By the cross and thorns that is emblazoned on his arm
His substance runs deeper than his cowboy charm
A tame Christian man with a spirit wild
A man of God, he is your child
His reckless nature will never subside
Yet humble he still has his foolish pride
His heart is bigger than the tallest mountain high
And you feel weak when you look into his eyes
His hands so rough yet so soft to touch
For him no ride is ever too much
He welcomes the mystery that comes in the night
A lover at heart born ready to fight
The complexity of this cowboy man
Every woman dreams with him she would stand
Alone, looking at the midnight moon
In her dreams, she whispers...sometime soon
How I miss you so.
I never wanted to let you go.
The days our long and the nights our to.
All I can remember is our favorite song.
Wondering how long I'll have to live without you?
Seemed just like yesterday we met and our destiny were set.
Now, I would bet my life to hold, love, and see you again.
Feel your warm breath on mine one more time.
You, taught me all I know.
I never wanted to let you go.
Our paths were different but our hearts were one.
If given a chance we would of made beautiful music together.
Our own song.
We don't know when or how long but time will see if there will ever be a you
By: Amber Gil
His name was John Paul Slavens, an old time buckaroo
when he was young, he’d made a hand, knew just what to do.
He had a soft hand with horses, he knew the ways of cow
He treated women like a lady, not like men do now.
He was good with "youngins" and when the work was done
he’d tell a story , spin a yarn, have a little fun.
He was never mean or surly, because he’d come to know
The good book’s always right, we’ll reap just what we sow.
JP worked with us kids, he’d smile the times we’d fail
He’d keep us working and learning, riding the cowboy trail.
And sometimes during the lessons, one of us kids would slip
into a place a cow had been and left her little... "chip".
JP’d laugh when we made a "face" slap his knee a time or two
He’d say, "It’s only grass and water!" as we tried to wipe off that "goo".
Well time moved on, his winter came, I watched Old J.P. die
I know he’s gone to Heaven, riding for the "Boss" in the sky.
Up there the water’s always good, the grass is stirrup high
He’s a happy cowhand, riding in the sweet by and by.
As I’ve traveled down life’s trail, I’ve "slipped" a time or two
And more than once I’ve found myself, "stepping’ in brown goo".
I think back to my childhood with Old J.P. showing me the way
of thinking and working like a cowboy, I can still hear him say;
"It’s only grass and water!" I realize all ain’t lost,
I pick up the pieces, try again, disregard the cost.
The worst probably won’t kill you, tomorrow’s another day,
just pick yourself up, dust yourself off, try different way.
I’ve begun to realize what I wish would go to another
Is just my little trail to ride... It’s all just Grass and Water!
He always wore that rodeo buckle made of silver and gold,
Every day of his life from when he was young till he grew old.
It said he was bucking horse champion of nineteen fifty-three,
And he told all the cowboys he had been the best that could be.
But then one day a stranger comes to town ‘bout as old as old Rance,
Who listened to his stories in silence and then eyed him askance.
He asked old Rance some questions ‘bout his times in rodeo—
Like horses he rode; cowpokes he knew and things he should know.
Then old Rance got defensive and asked just who was this cowboy gent
That asked him all these funny questions ‘bout days so long ago spent.
“Why,” drawled the old cowpoke, “I spent time here in fifty-three or two,
Ridin’ in rodeos you mentioned, but I don’t remember you.”
“And I don’t seem ta recollect you,” old Rance said and eyed the poke.
“Name’s McCall,” the stranger said, “and I ran that rodeo, no joke.”
Well, old Rance’s face fell and he knew his jig was up at long last—
Trying to pass that buckle off as his own, in one long last gasp.
He’d won that trophy buckle at cards from a cowboy on his last legs—
Why he started calling it his own, I reckon the question begs.
Now the other cowpokes gathered ‘round with wonder in their clear eyes
At why old Rance had shot the bull for years and told them all those lies.
Then a strange thing happened, as McCall realized just what he had done,
“Wait a minute, fella,” he said, “weren’t you the kid nicknamed ‘Young Gun?’”
And though he never had such a name, old Rance just nodded and grinned.
“I remember you now, you were the best – you rode just like the wind!”
Old Rance and McCall became pards, though Rance toned his bragging down,
But when new rodeos started, all the young cowboys gathered ‘round.
Then right before old Rance passed on, he gave that buckle to McCall
And told him he weren’t good at cards, that buckle was his after all.
It always seemed year after year
When Thanksgivin’ time came near—
That Toothie, our ol’ grouch coosie
Fixed chow that was a doozie.
And every year he just swore
Would be better that before—
‘Course it always was just jerky
And not tasty wild turkey!
This year Toothie was diffident—
Swore it would be different—
Got mouths waterin’ fer drumsticks
And no more of his dumb tricks.
And sure ‘nuff on that turkey day,
It was roastin’ right away—
Though it sure looked long and skinny—
We wouldn’t whine or whinny.
Though it did seem to have long ears,
None of us had any fears—
And we belched as was our habit
Though we knew it was jack rabbit!
That feast turned out to be our best
On a campfire I would guess—
Ol’ Toothie sure enough came through
With his roasted ‘turkey’ stew.
So it would be a year again
Till that coosie was our friend—
When he promised again the bird
And we took him on his word!
I'll be ridin' the trail alone these days,
The years have caught up with my bud,
No more will he be trottin' by our side--
That brown mutt I called Ol' Spud.
Red Roan, my hoss, will miss 'em I guess,
She keeps lookin' down at the ground--
It'll take us both a while I'll bet
To realize he's still not around.
Ol' Spud was a bird dog in his day--
He was ever since a pup,
But he lost his job of pointin' 'em out
When he et all the profits up.
I buried him deep on the land he loved,
Jest a soul that's lost to old age--
But he'll always trot right by our side
Along the whisperin' sienna sage.
I do not know?
He rose at dawn to start each day,
And though the work brought little pay...
The cowboy loved his life!
To rustle cows and hit the hay
Beneath the moon...is what he'd say
Was perfect, with no strife.
The trail was long and dusty too,
But oh those ragged mountain views
Stirred music in his soul!
And by the campfire where the crew
Told tales around the dice and drew
Their luck with games not droll...
Comradery was thick and bold,
Where every story that was told
Became their common fate.
And when the dice lie still and cold,
Each cowboy knows he's growing old...
He looks beyond the gate.
(A remembrance of driving to the auction in Odessa, Missouri.)
You’re bumpin’ down the highway in that ol’ pickup truck,
Just a kid slowly tunin’ in a radio that plays—
Headin’ for the stock auction with your dad and some luck—
A part of history, back in those Odessa days.
Dad will be biddin’ on some calves to haul way back home—
He fancies doin’ more farmin’ like in younger days—
He left the farm more than twenty years ago to roam,
To find a town job and turn his back on farmin’ ways.
But the land stays in your blood and someday you go back,
If not in bone and muscle, at least within your mind—
And you seek a part of youth—that’s just a natural fact,
For you’re always on the outlook for what you’ll never find.
You roll past green pastures and that churnin’ Mighty Mo,
Count the silos, barns and the cattle as you drive past—
Music fills the truck with songs of love and eatin’ crow—
Cowboys, beer, bar fights and pickups—things that never last.
That ol’ black pickup rattles and bucks just like a bronc,
Its days, just like the horses, will soon come to an end—
And as we reach the auction, my dad pulls up to honk:
A ritual of completion for a son and now a friend.
And when we head on home with those calves all loaded up,
We’ll turn on that radio and sing in one sweet haze—
For in just a few years, there will sit dad’s empty cup
And there will just be memories of those Odessa days.
He never thought
A day will come
Over his thirty years service,
He will be insulted
And kicked out
By his junior owner,
Last full week
Weather was freezing all,
But the junior owner
Enjoyed the whole week
With his feather pillows
And a healthy young body,
Delivered his message
A young lad came always
With his new order,
But a poor old life,
Feeds the cattle’s
And removed their mess.
It was a sunny day,
The sheep’s were grazing
In the field,
He was standing on the rock
Looking into the sky
And speaking with someone,
I never seen you
But you are great.
Nobody had control
This Air is free,
I can breathe freely
Can sing and talk
I always embraced
When it came to me,
Now cowboys don’t have much call, to celebrate the New Year,
They’re mostly holed up in line camps, waitin’ for snow to clear.
They might be playin’ cards or tellin’ tall ones with a grin
Or writin’ letters home or rememberin’ things back when.
But there are those few-- thinkin’ back on life and its strange way--
Who ‘member when Kid Short saved a life and grew a bunch that day.
And how Zack Buck seemed to get tired of livin’ under stars
And moved back to the town to live his life in cattle cars.
Yet, we still see old Mac LaDue in duds all decked out fine,
Who passed away just this last year, too young at ninety-nine.
And there was Slim and Whitey, two cowpokes that paid no heed,
But proved the bravest of the brave and died in the stampede.
So now this old year’s soon gone, and another takes its place,
As the moon again rises and shows its familiar face.
But in that warm line camp, an old cowboy’s life never ends,
As long as that New Year comes, and it’s shared with all his friends.
Its mournful melodies come drifting
Through the valley and the glen,
Those last haunting , misting memories
Of the mountain mandolin.
A jaunty jew’s-harp joins along now
Like a lonesome loud amen,
While a fiddle fades and then rises
With that mountain mandolin.
Then the bass moans of an old cowboy
Who in rage shot his best friend,
As that band of long ago plays on
Like soft thunder in the wind.
Yet, one by one those cowboys drift off
As we still remember when
And we join that dying orchestra
Lead by that mountain mandolin.
Me and Ben were fresh-scrubbed farm boys
Come to Wyoming fer the thrill,
We had twenty dollars twixt us,
But knew we’d climb the highest hill.
Then Ben got suckered in card games
And I spent the rest on bar gals—
We was down and out in Cheyenne,
Then started hangin’ at corrals.
Jest ‘bout the time I sold my horse
And almost called this a bad joke,
A tall, dark trail boss then offered
Me and Ben jobs as new cowpokes.
Sam Nightshade showed us some respect,
He didn’t want to hurt our pride—
He knew we wren’t cowboys and said,
“Ain’t it all just one long ol’ ride?”
Then he took the time to train us
And ‘fore long we were ridin’ herd,
And we would have both killed or stole
If Sam had only said the word.
Well, the years stampeded by fast—
We knew Sam was on his last legs,
Then he told Ben ta be the boss
And live life to its final dregs.
And as Sam put his horse in a trot,
His body went limp and he died,
But we caught him ‘fore he hit ground,
“Ain’t it all just one long ol’ ride?”
Though sad, I was soon resentful
‘Bout Ben bein’ the new trail boss—
Wasn’t Sam eatin’ me inside,
Reckon it was the double-cross.
Never said a word ‘bout it for years
But it gnawed a hole deep in me—
And I oiled up my .44
And practiced on an ol’ ash tree.
Then one night alone on the trail,
I found Ben where he could not hide
And shot him once clean through the head,
“Ain’t it all just one long ol’ ride?”