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The cowpokes is settled 'round the pot bellied stove all snug and warm,
A-bracin' fer snow and gales frum the advancin' winter storm.
Some enjoy Bull Durham roll-yer-owns, others terbaccy chaws.
They've shed their reekin' boots - the place rings with loud guffaws!

The boss 'lowed the norther would hit 'bout mid afternoon,
So he had 'em corral the herd that about the ranch wuz strewn.
The hosses wuz tended to, hay wuz scattered fer the cattle;
Now, settled in the bunkhouse, the winders began to rattle.

Angry clouds hid the peaks and scudded 'cross the Colorady plain.
Gales of wind shrieked and moaned causin' a most eerie strain!
Snow drifted higher and higher agin the ol' bunkhouse doors.
I'll take a heap o' shovelin' to tend to the mornin' chores!

Coffee wuz kept a-bilin' on the stove - it wuz black as tar.
One feller with a right smart voice sang, a-strummin' his git'tar.
A few played poker, takin' sips of 'shine frum a mason jar.
Other's hunkered in their bunks a-snorin' with their mouths ajar!

One ol' feller in the back room wuz a-takin' his monthly scrub,
While others cussed him out a-waitin' their turn in the tub.
Bein' snowbound ain't all that bad, they can cure their saddle sores.
Besides, it's a break frum the boss and his onerous daily chores!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)

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