Poem for Friday

[Saddletramp]

This is a poem I wrote a while back but never did much with it until this last month at Hot Springs, SD and Valintine, NE.

Two questions that were asked were: Did I write it? ans: Yes
Is it a true story? ans: Not that I know of but probably happened somewhere's.

CROCKET SPURS

I remember he smelled of whiskey
and was evil tempered for sure.
He was ugly from his battered hat
to his silver crocket spurs.

That old man was mad dog mean
He'd give me more than I could pack.
And if I could't get it done
He'd make fun of me and laugh.

He'd rope me out broncs I couldn't start
and would buck me off for sure.
Then He'd get on them and rake them out
with those silver Crocket spurs.

He made my young life miserable
but I swore I wouldn't throw in the towel.
But I got to where I'd get plumb broncy
when I heard the ring of those rowels.

No matter what I tried or did,
It wasn't good enough to him.
He'd tear it down or bust it up
and make me do it again.

At night he'd take out a picture he carried.
He'd drink till he'd dang near go blind.
Then he'd get on a crying jag,
when the liquor'd take over his mind.

With that photo and a bottle,
he'd rant and rave and curse.
Then get on the fight like a teased snake
and stomp those silver spurs.

Got to admit he was a dang good hand.
It was just best to stay out of his way.
when he'd prowl that bunkhouse with photo in hand,
he'd drink and get on the rage.

I got to where I hated that old man,
He ran off lots of good men.
And everytime he knocked me down,
bullheaded, I'd get up again.

He finally quit one day,
cussing everyone like he always had.
What kind of witches and demons
could poison a life so bad?

The last time I saw that old man he said,
"You'll never amount to spit."
"But, Kid I've got to give you this'
at lest you never quit."

Years later I seen my old boss,
He told me that old man finally died.
He'd got sick last winter and a VA somewhere's
tried to get him dry.

The whiskey had really taken it's toll,
towards last he was seeing snakes.
Kept ranting about some woman,
and some kid he couldn't break.

Boss said "This box had all that mattered to him
and to make sure it was yours."
Inside was a picture of a little girl…
and those silver Crocket spurs.

 

[Anonymous]

They say that there are no tall tales told out west. All of them are true, but maybe just haven't happened yet. :wink:

Here's another one I like. The difference between a fairy tale, and a cowboy tale is: A fairy tale starts out as, Once upon a time. A cowboy tale starts out as, This ain't no Bull S, but............. lol.

 

[Soapweed]

They say that there are no tall tales told out west. All of them are true, but maybe just haven't happened yet. :wink:

Here's another one I like. The difference between a fairy tale, and a cowboy tale is: A fairy tale starts out as, Once upon a time. A cowboy tale starts out as, This ain't no Bull S, but............. lol.

My cousin ends his wild windies with "True Story". Yeah, right. :wink:

 

[Jinglebob]

That'n's one of my favorites, but it way better to hear you tell it, than to read it.

Got an uncle who is fighting a stroke and they are having trouble with the VA, even tho' he is a decorated WWII vet. They are the kind who made this a better country!

 

[Nicky]

Thanks Saddletramp, that's a good one :!: And I'm sure it's true somewhere.

 

[Haytrucker]

Might not have been the same pair, but I worked with a feller with those spurs.
Very nice verse, well said.

 

[HAY MAKER]

Good poem saddletramp,you did good boy,and I will bet there is lotta truth to that poem ....................good luck

 

[sw]

Thats a good one Saddletramp, You should be using it, and as JB said, I'll bet it is even better hearing it rather than reading it :clap: :clap: :clap: