David Welch Poet Cowboy Poetry

Old Red

They saw he’s been here since
way back in forty-eight,
just showed, cleared the trees
and planted down a stake;
Old Red, working his land,
holding to it against any man.

They say Blackfoot came down
back then, when Red was young,
but then ran away when
he pulled his scatter-gun;
Old Red, holding his dirt,
wise enough to know just what it’s worth.

A surveyor came ’round here
from the government,
‘lost’ his maps one night and
back eastwards the man went;
Old Red, he’s got his ways
built his house so here he’s gonna stay.

Fancy lawyer came to
put a lien on his home,
went shuffling away when
Red quote him Blackstone;
Old Red, knows lots of trick,
you’d be a fool to think that he’s thick.

Rancher came looking to
buy up the land for cows,
so Red bought some sheep and
the rancher turned around;
Old Red, knows what he’s got,
run your cattle on some other lot.

Gunman came on by to
scare the man off with force,
no one has seen his since
but Red’s riding his horse;
Old Red, gray but not weak,
a fight with him is not what you seek.

Sheriff came around once,
was looking for a still,
then came back to the bar
flashing a lot of bills;
old Red, does what he must,
fine to work with but real slow to trust.

Don’t know if there’s a deed
or is he’s just been squatting,
but he’s always been there,
despite all the plotting;
Old Red, living his life,
just leave him be and he’ll treat you right.

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