Long Bunkhouse Poems

III.
He kept off the roads to avoid their eyes,
through scrub and dry grass, onwards he did ride,
skirting north of the ranch, behind a ridgeline,
until he stopped to see what he could find.

Sol crested the ridge...

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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...

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As they began the long ride to the ranch,
his father asked,”Are you all done with that stuff?
’Cause there’s problems at home, even for a man
setting things right is gonna’ be tough."

Luther just nodded to show...

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Is war coming? Are we headed for another crazy cataclysm?
My sons, draft age. Only now can I appreciate the pain
so sharp it drains the color from one's eyes, your reason
for living gone in a spasm...

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Santa flew off to make his rounds,
and Dix made quick tracks for home,
to a one-room shack outside of town,
that his ma and sister called their own.

It wasn’t much too look at,
and his pay barely made...

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The foreman and his missus
Had invited me to share
Their supper on this Christmas Eve
And to join their evening prayer.
Their little ones with shining eyes
Gazed at the Christmas tree,
Excited about their Christmas socks
And the presents they...

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He grew one of them bushy mustaches
like Sam Elliot wears under his nose
Bought him some fancy duds from Cabela's
sure looked spiffy in his Buckaroo clothes

Alligator skin boots and silver spurs
thought he looked like all them...

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...He thought of it for many days,
then went and bought a colt,
when Ma saw it, she railed and screamed,
her peace she could not hold.
Redmon had to sleep at the ranch,
in the big, long bunkhouse,
but it...

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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 &...

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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...

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Takes a gallon of coffee to wake him,
But it’s sweet when his axe hits the spot,
While the mist slips away from the mountain,
And the day hardens dusty and hot.
He contends with the bothersome thicket,
Stays alert...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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Hank rested his boots on the railin' of the bunkhouse when day was done.
The pointy-toes of his scruffy boots framed the slowly settin' sun.
He leaned back in his rockin' chair, his hands embracin' the back...

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Slim was pigeon-toed and bow-legged from allus bein' astraddle,
Of his faithful hoss Old Dan and his well-worn creakin' saddle!
He'd spent 30 years gazin' twixt Old Dan's ears ridin' the spread.
Now both is retired and 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...

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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...

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Ol' Bob was nearin' eighty when he laid down on his bed.
The bunkhouse seemed a lonely place to wind up cold and dead.

I asked ol' Bob to tell me if he thought his time 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...

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The cowpokes is settled 'round the pot bellied stove all snug and warm,
A-bracin' fer snow and gales frum the advancin' winter storm.
Some enjoy Bull Durham roll-yer-owns, others terbaccy chaws.
They've shed their reekin' boots - the...

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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...

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Now back to the question of being a cowboy. I think I’ll try another way.  I’ll 
compare the job I do to his. Doesn’t that sound like a laugh? I cook for the family,...

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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...

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‘Round the bunkhouse and corral—
Seven years old, without sin—
My yeller dog was my pal—
It seemed summer would not end.

The warm days went by fast—
It was time for me to wean—
The good things just do not...

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