Trail's End
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.
Copyright © Marycile Beer | Year Posted 2007
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