Roundup Poems - Poems about Roundup

Rolie Polie Olie rolled ‘round the room, Repairing rickety robots with a boom. With Zowie zipping, And screws slipping, The ruckus rattled the rosy red vacuum!...

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An old cowpoke from Cheyenne, Wyoming Got a hankering and set out a roaming. He got as far as Montana, Choked on a banana, And returned in a box the next morning. There was no one waiting to meet him, No family or loved ones to greet him. He was laid in the dirt In boots, jeans, flannel shirt, And an old faded checkered...

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Cowboy riding herd on the prairie, A man of tough and rugged degree, Most private and independent soul, One of a kind from a unique mold. Drifting along on his faithful steed, As cloven hooves drum the barren ground, Success is never guaranteed, When beat is heard by foes all around. The weather weighs heavy on his mind, Fears the northerly wind’s mournful whine, And...

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A cowboy’s life’s not easy, as he rides across the range. His bed roll on the saddle; his spurs, they bang and clang. A campfire is his cook stove; the stars above, his map. A star of the old roundup, he has to move his cows along. He won’t be fired from any job; he’ll ride the long, long path. Spurred along with thoughts...

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They started when the need to keep the school together, as the golden sided fish travelled in their world of water. Is isn't difficult to imagine riding one of them, herding the school to keep it from becoming chum. Just as the West had its run with the herds on the trail, So too, does the water have its schools...

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(alternately titled: ah me go march'n home on derange) I'll play the devil's advocate, yet prepare a stance with pitchfork against misinterpreted faux attempt to describe, how whet d'ya column re: immigration officials coe vet patrol, police, and poison tranquil casa blanca where killer attack dogs fiendishly...

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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 stiffly bowed! He loved the cowpokin' life but he didn't become...

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It was after chores were done near the end of day. In the fading light, the cowpoke rode away. The ranch was far away as his horse rode up the hill. A gust of strong wind came from what was once still. With the setting of the sun, the sky became crepuscular. What he witnessed next seemed quite peculiar. This was...

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Honey, Let’s go on Calhoun Road Its Saturday… Let’s Unload Drive up to the Cul-De-Sac… Stop the Truck… and Let’s Jump on Back With the Radio on – Up- High… The Bluebirds, will Wave – Bye-Bye Yeah, Let’s Go Truck… on a Back-Roads-Ride Roundup ! Honk – Uncle Henry… Out His House ! Tell Him… ‘Get Up Off That 40-Ounce Look at Him Trying...

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