Brandin' Time At the Triple "t"
It's brandin' time once't agin in the corral at Triple "T".
The dogies have been cut from the herd after a frantic spree!
Cowboys sweated and cussed in suns reachin' a hun'ert degrees,
As they flushed 'em out of arroyos and groves of salt pine trees!
It will be a frenzied week or so on the Triple "T" spread.
Even seasoned hands anticipate it with consternation and dread!
A feller could bust some bones gittin' them wild dogies lassoed,
Wrestlin' them brutes to the ground a-tryin' to get 'em throwed!
In his reliable old cuttin' hoss the cowpoke has put his trust,
To help bring them wily critters down, a-sprawlin' in the dust!
After much bawlin' and kickin', the calf is at last subdued,
And is seared with the Triple "T" brand, forever to be tatooed!
The dusty old corral rings with raucous hollers and hoots,
As a cowboy gets kicked and goes sailin' head over boots!
His calloused hands and nose leave deep furrows in the earth.
He gets up shakin' his head and a-cussin' fer all he's worth!
Brandin' season's over, now he can return to fixin' fences,
Herdin' cattle and savorin' Colorady's mountains and expanses.
Ain't no gittin' 'round it, brandin' comes with a cowpokes career.
He'll be back in the corral a-ropin' and a-cussin' agin next year!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (©All Rights Reserved)
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