Only In A Cowboy's World

By S. E. Hutchison

Where do you find the summer so hot
It will melt your very soul?
Where are the winters so blasted cold
They take a terrible toll?

Breakin' ice on frozen water holes
Hands wet, cold and numb
The herd covered in ice and snow
Ya can't wait for spring to come
The winter snows begin to melt
The spring has finally arrived
You wade through the mud and the muck
To see what has survived

Bacon And Beans

By Lee Pierce

IT’S A HUNDRED AND TEN IN THE SHADE AGAIN
AND I’M OUT ROUNDIN’ UP STRAYS
THE SUN’S BEATIN’ DOWN WITH THE DEVIL’S OWN FROWN
ANOTHER HARDWORKIN’ COWBOYIN’ DAY

IT’S BACON AND BEANS, COLD HARDTACK BISCUITS
COFFEE DRUNK OUT OF A CAN
ALL DAY ON THE TRAIL FACIN’ BRUSH FIRES AND HAIL
RAINSTORMS THAT COULD DROWN ANY MAN

Rusted Spurs

By John Darling

My campfire's flames reach for the sky while
Carving out the safe haven in the desert night
That keeps the wolves from gnawing on my ancient bones.

They will have their turn before the sun climbs into the morning sky.

For now, I watch the light flicker off the rusted spurs
That hang from the saddlebags of my dependable old roan.
No longer do I need them; no longer do I ride with the wind on
The swift steeds that were my partners in my youth.

Cowboy Retirement

Harold Roy Miller

The aging cowboy watched the cattle graze
amidst the wildflowers all ablaze
and tried to come to grips with all his doubts and fears.
He sat back in the saddle and closed his eyes and pondered
and in his mind, he thoughtfully wondered
why he’d stayed a cow puncher for so many long years.

A Line in the Sand

By Brad Fitzpatrick

Old Jasp and I rode into town
Behind a herd stretched half a mile
To sell them for the ranch boss
And we’d been on the trail a while

The stockyard man counted out the bills
Into Jasp’s old work-hardened hand
More dollars than I knew there were
In all that dry and barren land

I said, “Jasp, lets get a bath
Play a card game and drink beer
We may as well have some fun
Since we’ve got money while we’re here”

An Incident At The L. C. Saloon

By Mike Gombas Sr.

A persistent driving downpour
Transformed into a quagmire the roads and byways
Getting about was a soggy, unpleasant chore
For ranch hands looking for strays

Life had slowed to an insufferable pace
For the fed up, waterlogged farmers of the settlement
Mothers struggled with unruly children about the fireplace
While the men gathered at the saloon to drown their discontent

The Lesson

By Mike Gombas Sr.

About the flickering fire light
Children sat with upturned faces
Their eyes were aglow with wondrous delight
As the old shaman told stories of faraway places

He spoke of the time when the world began
Remembered in ageless song
That chronicled the ascent of man
Who's eyes were open to right and wrong

The Carolina Cowboy

By Rocky Georg Rutherford

When I hear the roar of the rodeo
And I see the fans rooting for me
I pause to thank those
Who sacrifice to keep America free.

I thank God for our great land,
This home of freedom, the USA;
I thank Him for the privilege
And the right to live here today.

Now, I have my work to do
And I must do my part
To show what rodeo is,
And why it is in my heart:

The Dying Moon

By Rocky Georg Rutherford

Once upon a time a bunch of old cowboys would have their say
At a greasy spoon ouside Lubbock called the Dying Moon Cafe.
Calloused, gallused, withered, water-eyed in ass-gone jeans,
Each told a story of rodeo glory, big bucks, and busted dreams.

A Westerner

By William Guthrie

A Westerner finds great pleasure
in most everything they see;
the deserts and the mountains,
both in perfect harmony.

They like to watch the eagles fly,
see the daylight turn to dark;
watch the moon rise through the tree tops
and hear an old coyote bark.

Their anger only rises when
fools try to rule the day
and change Mother Nature's plan,
thinking their's the better way.