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Cowboy Poetry
CIRCLE THE WAGONS
Robert C. Atkin
In the dust and heat; stamping of feet
Rippling muscles tensed at the ready
The harnessed four seem ready to war
Driver reins in and tries to hold steady
An interlude of quiet quickly changes to riot
As the klaxon cuts the air like a knife
“Midst whistles and screams, outriders 'n' teams
Erupt; like a volcano to life
Rigs slidin' 'n' churnin' the barrels they're turnin'
In an explosion ; they all hit the track
A fortitude test; runnin' now four abreast
Gatherin' speed; there's no time for slack
One to the railside, one to the outside
The other two sandwiched between
Round the oval they surge and one will emerge
To claim title as the fastest team
“Tis a sport of the plains; this “derby of the range”
A spectacle out here in the west
Men and their steeds in a contest of speed
To cross the line ahead of the rest
As I watch 'n' ponder my mind starts to wander
To another time and another place
And there's nothin' still that gives me the thrill
Of a good old “chuckwagon race”.
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