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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.

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