sanctions by the new world athletic connection.....
with promotional privileges giving
by Nahuel Huapi and Angostura "Distain"
we present "The Most Celebrated Men in the Industry"
.....Bashaw Madcalf and his partner Iguaza !
We liked these men: but everyone here Booed them, they
favored Morning Glory and Midnight Sun
over Bashaw and Iguazu, I found it strange and these were
the good guy's the one's who were more than average and
very popular with the females, the sexy men who found it
easy just being easy. Not here, here they were bad guy's, booed because
they were handsome, jeered because the women loved them.
Someone
told me that Morning Glory was two cupcakes away from being 300 pounds,
and Midnight Sun was too tall to fit in the back of a midsized car, these guy's were huge !
In most places people booed them, not here they were the talk of the town and
were the favorites to win. People thought of there abilities to win and found it more suitable to root for the mass, instead of the bruin.
Categories:
pards, appreciation, celebrity, film, football,
Form: Didactic
As we journey wide in life
On strange ranges far from home,
We often stop and ponder
Old burnt circles made of stone.
They are last meager remnants
Of some campfire long ago—
Where pards and tired travelers
Would share a hot cup of joe.
The fire would blaze but briefly
Then be just smoke as they’d part—
To rise again down the trail
Where another fire would start.
Yes, they’d slowly gather rocks
And form that new ring of stone—
Build a blaze to ease the night,
So they’d not be all alone.
But those days are mostly gone
With stone circles left behind—
Cowboys seldom come this way
And good pards are hard to find.
And while fires now seem to die
And a cold north wind does moan—
There’s always comfort in a fire
In our circle made of stone.
And so we all go our way,
Build rings all the farther—
Honor roots and family,
But most of all, our Father.
Yes, now we’ve come full circle—
Return to earth as it lays—
A circle of completion—
Like brief dust of earthly days.
Categories:
pards, cowboy-western, introspection, nostalgia, philosophy,
Form: Cowboy Poetry
Ah done cum frum tha ol' times
Whar we's jist roams free
I's gots a gun, a hoss un grub
'Un bedroll 'neath a tree.
Sum times ah jist works fer grub
An theys the tother times
Ah's jist watches tha stars 'bove
An sleeps un tha moons light.
Don't likes ridin' un tha rain
When lighten flies 'bouts
T'ain't safe ta be's board youse hoss
If'n youse tha tallest thin 'round.
Seed sum thin tother day
Done made me's feels so small
War a cowboy on 'is knees
An 'is hoss with head bowed low.
Tha cowboy held hat un han
Un front a wood cross
He war prayin ta tha Lord 'bove
Fer all tha pards we's loss.
Theys air up thar, that I's knows
Bacause las night I's seed
Ma frien Charlie ridin herd
Next ta ma pa, Reed.
One days I's 'll be up thar
An sum one down balow
Will looks an watches tha stars shine
Un sleeps 'neath tha moons glow.
Cile Beer
Categories:
pards, cowboy-western, imagination, life, stars,
Form: Verse
Seems this winter is a long one,
But things will work out fine,
As I trail on from ranch to ranch—
Ridin’ that ol’ chuck line.
Been unemployed since fall shippin’,
But that’s a cowboy’s life—
Line camp’s too confinin’,
Just like a nosey wife.
What money I earned from trail drives
Was spent on gals and cards—
So now I ride this ol’ chuck line
Or borrow from my pards.
Each ranch has its grub to offer,
Though we have not a thing—
We’ll take those beans, stew and biscuits
And jobs that come with spring.
Yet while each winter’s a hard one,
Ol’ cowboys do not whine—
We just keep our horses movin’—
Ridin’ that ol’ chuck line.
Categories:
pards, cowboy-western, philosophy, seasons, time,
Form: Cowboy Poetry