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Cowboy Poetry and Western Verse
The Old Cowpoke on His Porch
Tom Sheehan
You can see where I’ve landed,
busted-face and broken-handed,
stomped feet up for stirrup rest
at this cabin, my new nest.
I could be rooming there in town
Watching revelry go down,
Seeing ladies and their gents
Sometimes losing all their sense,
Or catch the gambler on the run
When his cheating lost its fun,
Or the youngest cowpoke kids
Working up their manhood bids.
But up here on this hillside,
Watching stallions at their pride,
Or the wild one’s spirit broken
By a cowpoke wet and soaking,
Then watch that horse not go dumb
And ride his pal to Kingdom Come.
But mostly when the sun just fades
And loses stampedes and the raids,
I ‘member campfires with the herds,
Night rider’s lullabying words,
Singing a drover’s life bespoken …
Him just sitting hushed and broken.
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