A Cowboy Poet

Hank had rode the range a-punchin' cattle fer nigh on fifty years, Ridin' through Texas northers and brandin' cantankerous steers. He'd herded ornery longhorns along the Chisolm Trail to Abilene. He'd signed on with the Triple D Ranch when he was about seventeen. Hank had broke many a wild bronc and a heap of times was throwed, And ridin' the saddle all them years, his legs was grievously bowed! He put his loyal hoss Old Dan out to pasture and decided to retire, To take quill in hand, reminisce and toss off verse by a glowin' fire. He wrote about pullin' cattle-guard on dark and stormy nights; The grandeur of the starry skies and the spectacular Northern Lights; Splendid risin's of the sun and its magnificent settin's at end of day, And sleepin' 'neath the mellow moon when it was time to hit the hay. Hank wrote of the meager pay and many suppers of beans and bacon, And the same for breakfast with acrid-tastin' java when he'd awaken! The evenin' campfires with his pards a-singin' 'long with the harmonica, And, yes, he wrote of a long-lost love, his dance hall queen, Suemonica. He wrote about long, hot and dusty days in the saddle a-mendin' fences, Of buffalo, antelope, tumbleweed and the beauty of God's great expanses. His last poem spoke of the epitaph he wanted etched upon his stone: "I ain't one to moan, But, Lord I was hopin' this ride You'd postpone!" Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (c) 2014 All Rights Reserved