Reminisces of An Old Cowpoke

Hank lounged on his porch watchin' the sun slowly sinkin' in the west. He'd cowboyed for nigh on sixty years and figgered he'd done his best. Hank and his faithful hoss Old Dan was now enjoyin' their leisure years, And he had time to recall his ranchin' days while tossin' back some beers! He was so bow-legged from ridin' saddle he looked like a pair of pliers! His hands was stained and gnarled from roll-yer-owns and mendin' wires. He'd hung up his spurs, chaps and well-worn saddle without regret, But he wore his scruffy boots, leather vest, jeans and sombrero yet. He shuddered recalling stormy nights that spooked the wild-eyed steers, Causin' hell-raisin' stampedes that endangered him and his peers. He remembered more peaceful times ridin' herd with cattle happily grazin', And a time or two chasin' cussed' rustlers with his .44 guns a-blazin'! He swore he'd never eat another bean, tater or bacon in his life, Since that's all Cooky knowed how to fix, a subject of constant strife! He recalled how he stammered when meetin' ladies in many a saloon, Which left him pawin' the floor with his pointy boots, feelin' like a goon! Hank remembered cattle drives and in Abilene drawin' his meager pay, Spendin' it on rot-gut whiskey and schemin' wimmin, blowin' it all away. Hank peered into the distance and gazed at a lone pine tree in the vale, Thinkin', "I want to be planted there when I've reached the end of the trail!" Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired