Been There
Well-known member
Getting serious, having spent most of a lifetime ranching in the Sandhills,
this poem " s'pose I coulda lived in the city" pretty well sums up what the rancher feels about his occupation and the land
But ranching isn't just an occupation, it is a way of life. One has to really want to be doing that or he wouldn't.
The work is harder than most and the financial reward is too often lacking,
and... Sometimes I get to thinkin',
life, it ain't been all that good.
It should have been some easier,
and then I recollect it could
be my fate to have lived in L.A.
Denver, Desmoins, or Chigago,
crowded in a concrete jungle,
and then I would never know
The easy gaited good feel of a horse,
breaking into a long-strided lope.
I wouldn't be knowin' horse sense savvy,
and I'd not learned to handle a rope.
I wouldn't know the satisfaction
of seeing a calf take its first meal.
I'd never known the heartache and pain
that comes from having to deal
with sickness and death invading the herd,
to which all my hopes and plans are tied.
When all I could just wasn't enough,
didn't seem to matter how hard I tried.
I couldn't see the sun break over the ridge,
or smell clean earth after a summer rain.
I wouldn't have known long lonely quite,
and I couldn't have had a chance to train
my young ones in the way of the range,
and watch each, their skills perfect.
And see them come to care for the land,
as I, with love and nurturing respect.
I couldn't lean over the corral fence,
just gazing out across the land.
Feelin' free and mighty thankful,
and thinkin', and tryin' to understand
how folks could live all crowded up,
like a bunch of cattle in a pen.
Seems like they'd get plumb proddy,
and want to break out, but then
I get to thinkin' that's good,
anyway as far as I can see.
Folks stay packed in their cities,
it leaves more room for me.
If I'd lived in the city, I would know the pride
in a hard day's work on my own place.
and fretting about all left undone,
when I couldn't keep up the pace.
I wouldn't have heard a coyote howl,
or heard a meadow lark sing.
I wouldn't have had concern for cattle,
that winter snowstorms bring.
I wouldn't have known the serenity
of watching long evening shadows change,
and challeng the heat of a summer day,
as twilight lays claim to the range.
this poem " s'pose I coulda lived in the city" pretty well sums up what the rancher feels about his occupation and the land
But ranching isn't just an occupation, it is a way of life. One has to really want to be doing that or he wouldn't.
The work is harder than most and the financial reward is too often lacking,
and... Sometimes I get to thinkin',
life, it ain't been all that good.
It should have been some easier,
and then I recollect it could
be my fate to have lived in L.A.
Denver, Desmoins, or Chigago,
crowded in a concrete jungle,
and then I would never know
The easy gaited good feel of a horse,
breaking into a long-strided lope.
I wouldn't be knowin' horse sense savvy,
and I'd not learned to handle a rope.
I wouldn't know the satisfaction
of seeing a calf take its first meal.
I'd never known the heartache and pain
that comes from having to deal
with sickness and death invading the herd,
to which all my hopes and plans are tied.
When all I could just wasn't enough,
didn't seem to matter how hard I tried.
I couldn't see the sun break over the ridge,
or smell clean earth after a summer rain.
I wouldn't have known long lonely quite,
and I couldn't have had a chance to train
my young ones in the way of the range,
and watch each, their skills perfect.
And see them come to care for the land,
as I, with love and nurturing respect.
I couldn't lean over the corral fence,
just gazing out across the land.
Feelin' free and mighty thankful,
and thinkin', and tryin' to understand
how folks could live all crowded up,
like a bunch of cattle in a pen.
Seems like they'd get plumb proddy,
and want to break out, but then
I get to thinkin' that's good,
anyway as far as I can see.
Folks stay packed in their cities,
it leaves more room for me.
If I'd lived in the city, I would know the pride
in a hard day's work on my own place.
and fretting about all left undone,
when I couldn't keep up the pace.
I wouldn't have heard a coyote howl,
or heard a meadow lark sing.
I wouldn't have had concern for cattle,
that winter snowstorms bring.
I wouldn't have known the serenity
of watching long evening shadows change,
and challeng the heat of a summer day,
as twilight lays claim to the range.
