Best Bunkhouse Poems

I walked up to the bunkhouse, beneath a cloudless sky,
searching to find the Christmas star, still shining there on high.
The bunkhouse was warm but lonesome with no other cowboys there.
They had all gone home for Christmas. I pretended not to care.

Christmas carols on the radio...

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"Rise an' shine you lazy cowpokes!  Time to saddle up yer hoss!
Time to move them moo-cows to summer range!" yelled th' trail boss!
"You've lolled around here all winter, now it's time to earn yer pay!
Jump in yer jeans, pull on them boots an' let's...

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Cowboyin' seems so romantical as seen in th' pitcher shows.
Ain't a lick uv truth in that as ever' workin' cowpoke knows.
Movie stars is paid big bucks with a fancy saddle fer thar horse,
An' always ride off into th' sunset with a purty gal, uv course!

Real...

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A Nook and a Storybook



His leg was broke and his pride hurt
As he began to read.
That knucklehead he called his hoss
Had stumbled at full speed.

"Read a good book", the doc had said,
"The healin' takes awhile.
Just make a nest in that bunkhouse,
Pretend you're still a child."

He...

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Hank was a hard workin' cowpoke who really earned his meager pay.
He rode his ass Old Red from early dawn 'til at night he hit the hay,
Fixin' fences, ropin' steers and brandin' dogies in the old corral,
But he had an odd addiction that gnawed on...

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Hank had cowboyed and rodeoed fer nigh on forty years,
Ridin' in sleet, rain and snow a-herdin' cantankerous steers.
His hide was tough as leather and his legs was slightly bowed,
But brandin' dogies and fixin' fences was all he ever knowed!

His gut was made of iron from...

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Hank had cowboyed on the Triple T Ranch fer nigh on fifty years.
He'd rode the range herdin' beef peerin' betwixt his hoss's ears.
Durin' cattle stampedes he'd broke bones and many a time was throwed,
And he'd been astraddle his saddle so long that his legs was...

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They planted Hank 'neath a lonesome pine when he came to the end of the trail.
Angels ushered him to the Great Beyond and through that Mysterious Veil.
Saint Peter greeted him, sayin', "I've been a-hankerin' to meet ya, mate!"
Hank noted a sign readin' 'COWBOY SPOKEN HERE'...

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"Ain't got no prairie fire worries," 
Bob says to Little Zeke
"Lessen we gits some whar with grass"
And he kicked his horse in the ribs as they entered the pass

A week later they found grass
The cattle were starting to get weak
Samuel called a hault 
And all...

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I think that I shall never see
A cowboy that eats toe-foo—
Sech a dern thang jest could not be
In this ol’ bunkhouse crew!

Real men eats beef an’ pork an’ beans—
And all thangs within their reach—
Us real cowpokes drink coffee black—
Turn noses up at quiche!

Veggies should stay...

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I was heading to the bunkhouse, after a wild night on the town
dancing & romancing & one too many round
Back in my wild & woolly days, one more rowdy Saturday night
full of cheap beer & whiskey & the necessary fight
I set Ol' Gus on auto...

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Hank lounged on the bunkhouse porch tossin' back some beers,

Watchin' the sunset and reminiscin' about his cowboyin' years.

He peered at the sun 'twixt the pointy toes of his shabby boots

Propped on the railin', that he'd wore durin' his cowpokin' pursuits!

He'd bought 'em fer about twelve...

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An old cowpoke throwed his leg over the well-worn saddle horn,
And tilted back his ten-gallon hat that was sweat-stained and worn.
From his shirt pocket he took a Bull Durham tobacco pouch,
And with one hand made a roll-yer-own - at that he was no slouch!

"Son", he...

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Sing Me a Song

Oh, sing me a song of cows and campfires
And dream back to those days that are long past;
Of empty bunkhouse and tall mountain spires,
Of old west ghost towns and things that won't last.

Think back to trail drives and prairie house sod
And sing...

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(A Pre-Memorial Poem for Bob Lind)

Well the day that I met Bob Lind stays in my mind
For we met in a restaurant farmer’s still use,
A fond memory with me for twenty five years,
Of friends meeting for coffee, of sharing of news.

We both sat at the...

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