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Welcome To The Bullpen
HERDERS ANTHEM
Floyd Henderson
They rise to the sounds of cow camp awakenings
After a night of soft winds and coyote serenades
Drifting across the moonlit prairie and their dreams
But not invading the waddies' bone-weary slumbers
After ten miles of herding and catching dumb steers
Canny in the stick-to-it ways of tough cow ponies
That seem to know a cow critter's intent to jump herd
Or turn and hook a horse or rider on wicked horns
Backed by half a ton of cat-quick fury on the hoof.
And it's back astride their horses' hurricane decks
For more punishment by killing heat and choking dust
Or pushing through rain that turns plains into bogs
Dragging down the pace to what a snail could beat
And finding every path under slickers and down backs
Dwindling the horizon from many miles to several yards
Until camp is made with cold beans and gather water
In place of hot beef, and biscuits with steaming coffee
Because the scarce scrub wood is too soaked to burn.
But, it's the life the cowboys choose to slip the chains
Made of schedules and rules from folks with no idea
Of what freedom dwells in the hearts of these men
After they shuck suits and ties for boots and jeans.
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REVIEW 1
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