Cowboy Poetry |
BUNK HOUSE CHRISTMAS. We were sitting round the bunkhouse one Christmas afternoon. Telling lies and swappin' tales of Christmases back home. When an old cowboy we'd taken on a day or two before, told us all this Christmas story and to its truth he swore. Said we were rounding up the cattle one snowy Christmas eve. When all at once there came a norther rushing in. Snow flakes as big as birds the wind was cutting like a knife. All of a sudden every cowboy was riding for his life. It seemed like an eternity of cold and ice and snow. But soon the miles were all behind me Old Buck was bedded down. And I was in the bunkhouse standing in the fires glow. I put on a pot of coffee filled the kettle, did the chores. Put the mugs out on the table settled down to watch the door. One by one the boys came in half frozen to the bone. Cussed their luck "n" winter storms and all but one came home. By midnight it was plain to see ole Hank had lost his way. When his mount came home without him we surely feared the worst. We'd get what sleep we could and start the search at break of day. If any slept it was uneasy that snowy Christmas night. When all at once the storm was gone an hour before daylight. We heard the jingling of sleigh bells and the clattering of hooves. A driver calling to his team up on the bunkhouse roof. Just then the door swung open large as life there stood ole Hank. On his arm a sack of gifts Across his face a grin. He shook the snow from off his boots and then he stepped on in. He threw Slim a red bandanna Billy Joe a lariat. Will and Jim new silver spurs for me this Stetson hat. And then he looked around and laughed an bent "n" slapped his knee. Said "Boys, Your not gonna believe what just happened to me." ................................... ..... Merry Christmas to all |