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Cowboy Poetry
WILD HORSES
Robert C. Atkin
Wild horses, wild horses
Are a mystery it seems
Wild horses, wild horses
Are they real or just dreams?
Come sit for a moment
I'll tell you a tale
'Bout wild horses; old cowboys
Out on the trail
Down to the corral, saddle on up
Hit the trail at the crack of dawn
Head out for Wild Horse Valley
'Tho all the wild horses are gone
Four riders with ropes at the ready
Me 'n' Jack 'n' Alf 'n' old Slim
The lustre was gone from our past
'N' the future was a lookin' a might dim
Gone now were the free rangin' mustangs
Where once roamed a thousand head
Not captured for ridin' or pullin'
But shipped off to the canners instead
There was rumor that a renegade stallion
Still travelled 'bout the plains
A throwback to the old days
Like us twisters out here on the range
We set up camp on a mesa
Overlookin' Big Dog Crick
Unloaded supplies from the pack mare
Set up the teepee right quick
Then it was off to the wide open spaces
In search of this mystical steed
A futile effort to most folks
But important to old cowboys indeed
We tracked the brush 'n' the coulees
'N' couldn't find nary a trace
If this dam old stud horse exsisted
He sure had a good hidin' place
So back to camp we headed
For vittles 'n' a bit of shut-eye
Alf had a jug of moonshine
'Course we all had to give it a try
I don't know how long we'd bin sleepin'
When suddenly all hell broke loose
Somethin' was trashin' the campsite
Jack yelled "bear", Slim hollered "a moose"
We scrambled for ropes and rifles
Tryin' to get boots and britches on
But as quick as the "kerfuffle" had started
The night raider had come and gone
We surveyed the destruction at sunrise
No trace of moose nor bear
We all kinda gasped in unison
When we saw hoof prints eveywhere
All our mounts was still on the stakeline
The packmare was on higher ground
Could it be our mysterious mustang
Was close by a hangin' around
Now Alf come up with a plan
Somethin' he'd read in Safari Guide
We'd dig a pit six feet deep
'N' trap that wild rascal inside
Jack and Slim climbed a tree
While I layed low on the hill
They'd drop their loops over his head
Me 'n' Alf would make him be still
The day wore on to evenin'
We sat still; not movin' a muscle
All at once we saw a shadow
And heard the bushes rustle
We sprang our plan to action
More chaos than systematic it seems
Hobbles 'n' ropes missed their marks
'Midst flailin' legs 'n' arms 'n' screams
After the skirmish was over
A sorry lookin' lot were we
We hung our heads 'n' headed home
Lesser men than we used to be
Not even sure we'd encountered
What we had come to find
Our cronies laughed and jeered at us
Said we was losin' our mind
Well; almost a year passed by
Glory be! That packmare dropped a foal
It looked a mustang through and through
Had a coat as black as coal
Slim was smilin'; pleased as punch
Alf 'n' Jack screamed out "Redemption"
There must be a mustang out on the range
This wasn't "Immaculate Conception"
Ther is no moral to this story
And it really doesn't have an end
Just four old cowboys havin' fun
Enjoyin' memories with old friends
And memories to us old twisters
Sure does mean a lot
After all when the skills start fadin'
It's all an old cowboy has got
Whether it be in search of rainbows
Ah!! That elusive pot of gold
Or should this need for fulfillment
Be cast aside when one grows old
But this is part of the agin' process
A time we all must face
Through life's trials and tribulations
We all have wild horse to chase.
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