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Cowboy Poetry
LAST RIDE AT PLUM COULEE
Robert C. Atkin
Early one Sunday we packed up our gear
Loaded up and ready to go
Twenty-two miles on a rough gravel road
Headin' for; The Plum Coulee Rodeo
I entered the saddle and bare-back events
It was all my old bones could take
And when that cayuse starts to cut loose
It's job to hang on for eight
Well he bucked 'n' squealed, turned 'n' he reeled
Got all four off the ground
The folks in the stands all clappin' their hands
When we heard that ride whistle sound
It started out fun but now the ride's done
And i'm tryin' for all i'm worth
To remove myself from the top shelf
And get back to sweet mother earth
Well I've been around once, I've been around twice
And I'm headin' around again
My prospects are shrinkin' and I keep a thinkin'
Where the hell's the pick-up men
With one last hope old Slim threw his rope
And it tightened right there round my neck
He yanked on the slack; tore me right back
We wound up in a helluva wreck
I remember comin' to, starin' up in the blue
The saddlehorn wedged in my ear
My nose was shattered, teeth all splattered
I didn't know my head from my rear
The Healers were there to administer care
They bandaged and wrapped and spliced
My breathing restored, my Adam's Apple cored
My innards felt like they'd been diced
The judges came down; kneeled on the ground
Said” cowboy you gotta decide
You got fouled on your mount the score doesn't count
Would you like to take a re-ride”
I could barely talk, it was hard to walk
But the next step I had to take
I pushed through the crowd, chest puffed out proud
Just one more ride to make
It's twenty-two miles down a rough gravel road
And more was hurtin' than my pride
I had to go from The Plum Coulee Rodeo
And the ambulance was my last ride.
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