Cowboy poetry |
Time was old horse- when we crossed the Great Divide, riding east into prairie land- a cowhand could ride all day never seeing house or barbwire fence- and all the schooling a man could ever use was plain old common horse sense. As far as the eye could see the prairie was a sea of grass- growing wild and high old horse, wild and high and vast. But now that time has passed- posts and wire now string the land- what grass is left won’t last- developers soon will cover it over with shopping centers, parking lots and fast food stands. Common sense and you old horse, are now just not enough- a lap-top and a Jeep are required to bring this old cowboy up to snuff. The west is really changing- there aint much left to keep- even tough old Texas Rangers are using cell phones and pagers. You injured yourself old horse, running the last predator off this range- how was you to know that wash-out lay buried just beneath the snow? They say away with you old horse- there has to be a change- you just aint no good anymore- you’re all crippled up and lame and your back is saddle sore- useless old horses got to go- we need this land for a new condo. Old horse, after all we’ve been through, I don’t give a hoot what they need- they’ll never turn you into dog food or chicken feed. We still have two acres of prairie down by the crick that is still wild and thick- and no-one will ever see your bum knee old horse, cause the grass is still green and lush, and high as your tired old xxx. |