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Johnnies Hair Piece by Keith K. Anderson, ©2005 Johnnie was average when it come to ranch work But one talent he had for sure was a perk He made gear outa hair and couldn't be beat Could outdo anyone who tried to compete Horsehair, mohair, tails and manes Turned into headstalls, girths, and reins From horsehair reata to quirt and hat band He outfitted our crew the best in the land But despite all his talents for workin' with hair He had none of his own, none grew up there And if his hat wasn't screwed down tight The shine put horses and wimmin to flight Then one winter someone placed on his bunk Ads from a men's magazine named Hunk "Hair pieces for sale", suitable for swimmin' Made a feller look smart and a sure thing with wimmin But the prices were steep for low cow hand wages And a thought crept in as he turned the pages "Them toupe's just hair assembled by hand By some foreigner in a far off land" Why pay good money when he had the skill Can't beat cowboy ingenuity if a guy's got the will So he collected materials which weren't at a lack Some bay and brown and chestnut and black And when he was done, we had to admit It was mostly real lookin' and a danged good fit Then if he went hatless out at the door We was happy 'cause he didn't scare horses no more A right fine lookin' hair piece and designed for swimmin' But, alas, didn't do a thing for his chances with wimmin After he flopped at the dance we just had to say "Johnnie, maybe it's the chin strap what gives you away!" >>> Back to Top <<< A Cowboy at a Fashion Show by Keith K. Anderson, ©2005 She said, " Honey would you take me To a fashion show in town The winter's dark and dreary And my lip is hangin' down Livin' out here so far from town And just workin' with cow pokes It'd be nice to see a lacy gown And consort with women folks" She really is a dang good lass It's true she's been in a brood Lately been givin' me abundant sass A trip to town might help her mood So I give in, no good reason why 'cept there's not much work fer doin' 'till calvin' time draws nigh, and I….. …I could kill an afternoon Then things commenced to go to heck When she handed me a tie Said "Cinch it up around yer neck And antiperspirant please do apply" Well, I felt like I was tied to a post In a fresh starched shirt and all To town we went, ten words at the most Drove straight to the community hall And there I saw the most dreadful sight I was really in a squeeze Rows of tables arranged right tight And nothin' but wimin, if you please! Took our seats with greetin's around A piano was playin' a long hair tune I took a quick tally and what I found I was the only gent in the room There was coffee and tea served in tiny cups And vases of pretty flowers For fanciness there were no let ups And it seemed like it went on fer hours There was mostly proper talk 'bout gardening and food I'd been told "Don't just sit and gawk But don't say nothin'crude!" Out come the fancy hors d'oeurves And a little pastry crumpet invention I was becomin' a bundle of nerves Like a chicken at a coyote convention Had to balance it all upon their laps And whenever they sipped from a cup Daintily raised and poised at their flaps Their pinkies automatically stuck up The modelin' show was a sight to see Like a barnyard promenade The girls was ornamental as could be They all paraded straight as a rod Each one showed lots of skinny and pale Like a brand new shaved fence post No bacon or taters makes a guy right frail Guess that modelin' don't pay the most Funny thing 'bout their clothes I found As thin as they were, nothin' fit Weren't enough cloth to go around Made it up with air and a slit I couldn't think how that would work Fer ridin' around in an old ranch truck Full of cheatgrass, straw and dirt Openin' gates, or diggin out of the muck The ride back home was full of life Her happiness had reached a summit Bubbly and cheerful, that was my wife I'm glad I went, for her sake I dunnit High fashion ways have a place no doubt And guess I ain't the worse for wear But if when drinkin' coffee my pinkie sticks out Just shoot me then and there! >>> Back to Top <<< Cowboy Gathering by Clark Crouch, ©2004 It's a cowboy gathering, a place to relive the past, where cowboys and would-be's come to have a blast. They hear some western music and stretch the truth a bit as they tell a western tale and share their cowboy wit. Some recite their poetry, others brag about their lives while some strum on their guitars and sing of cattle drives. Around the old chuck wagon, enjoying western food, they continue swapping tales with every passing dude. It's a grand old cowboy time, in an old time western way, when these folks get together on a cowboy gathering day. >>> Back to Top <<< The Legend of Ol' Kit by Bill Douglas, ©2004 Kit was an old, brown mare, That my brother, Ronnie, gave to me. He'd had her for 17 years, And she developed quite a history. She was hard mouthed and going blind; Through cataracts, she could hardly see. Her teeth were so jagged, she had a tough time eating, But she could still cover ground faster than a walker from Tennessee On three occasions she dumped three different girls, Because she couldn't see a fence until it was too late. Kit loved to run, and so did the girls, Until Kit put on her brakes. Ronnie was afraid someone would get hurt. Kit's eyes were getting so bad, Or maybe he just didn't want to see her die. She was the best horse he'd ever had. In any case, he gave her to me, As the end of November drew near. It was my hope to breed her that spring, And have a new foal the next year. I brought her home in my pickup truck. The side racks were 32" high. She rode fine, but I got some strange looks, From the farmers who passed me by. Those who knew ol' Kit, didn't think it strange, And certainly, would not think her well-being just luck. After all, my sideboards were nearly three feet high. Ronnie hauled her around on a flat bed truck. We never were sure of what blood she came from, But guessed Hamiltonian was one. She traveled like a freight train and never slowed down, Until she was home and the ride was done. She'd pack out an elk, then go back for more. She'd keep at it until all the meat was brought down. It didn't matter who was working her; A professional packer or just any old clown. Ol' Kit would accommodate About anything you wanted her to do, And sometimes, you could almost see her grin, Watching those packers stew. One time a couple of green horns Were trying to load her from below the trail. She patiently stood and watched them, As they grunted and fussed-what a tale. Kit was sure a hearty old girl. She didn't require a lot of care, And she was even more independent. She'd chase down a grizzly bear. Ronnie once left her with a couple of hunters, To use until they broke camp. Instead of bringing her home at the end of the season, They left her in the mountains, tied to a branch. Now Kit broke loose and started for home, But must have gone some other way. 'Cause she wintered over, up on Starveout Ridge. At least that's where Ronnie found her one day. She must have struck at some horses, Over a barb wire fence, Because a foot was hung up on the top strand, And she'd been there ever since. It wasn't cut bad, but wanted to turn under, When she'd try to walk on it. Most horses would have boogered and hurt themselves, But it was just another day, in the life of ol' Kit. In any case, he got her on home, And none the worse for wear. 'Twas just another chapter in ol' Kit's life. There's a lot of stories written there. She stayed under Ronnie as he was trying to turn cows, At a full gallop on a hillside, so steep. Rocks started rolling, but Kit kept her footing, As they broke loose under her feet. She weathered the storms of a Montana spring, When she went on a gold hunting trip, And she pulled little Sugar through the swift current, To save her from a raging crick. Now it was for all these reasons, that I wanted a foal, Out of ol' Kit before she died. She was 26 years old and it was doubtful, But Doc Price said he'd help-so we tried. I grained her up and fed her "Mare Plus", Put a timer light in the barn, Brushed and curried her every evening, And always kept her from harm. She was in good flesh and luster, When she went to the breeder in May. Doc Price checked her at forty, And again at fifty days. She didn't settle, so our hopes faded, For her dropping a late-life foal. We all talked it over and then concluded, That the years had taken their toll. Clarence Shaw of Shawalla Morgans Was the breeder I took her to. He said, "For your stud fee and a hundred/fifty dollars, I've got a registered Morgan yearling for you." So I accepted his offer and brought "Banner" home. Kit watched over him, like he was her own. Banner had an interesting life as well, But that'll be another story to tell. Kit lived well beyond her time, And she's still remembered and brought to mind. When we talk of the mountains and packing out game, Someone always mentions "Freight Train." Ol' Kit was a legend, before she went blind, And dumped Kim, Cindy and Tina, one at a time, And though they hated her, for a short while, The name of Kit, now, always brings a smile. In the prime of her life, she was all Ronnie rode. He never had a wreck, in all the stories he told. She was a fast walker, hearty, sure-footed and true. Kit, I sure wish I had gotten a foal out of you. >>> Back to Top <<< The Smell of a Horse by Don Ohman, ©2004 Something about the smell of a horse that gets to my nose. It sure don't smell like any flower or any rose. It's just a smell all of its own that relaxes me, brings me back home... Yup! to my childhood days using a cury comb on my Quarterhorse from Montana, Sam Bass. Oh, the stories I could tell and all the memories come flowing back to me with every horse that I smell. God bless ya, old Sam! >>> Back to Top <<< Rodeo Cowboy by Don Ohman, ©1985 Oh, we like to play rodeo cowboy… load 'em in the chute, jump 'em on their back… that's the name of the game. Oh, we like to play rodeo cowboy… load 'em in the chute, jump 'em on their back… that's the name of the game. First goes Skip, then goes Gene… I hold back waiting for one real mean. Yes, we like to play rodeo cowboy and let out a big yahoo! So come on and join us, and you can play it too. >>> Back to Top <<< Carman by Don Ohman, ©2004 Carmen, carknockers and car toads, they're all the same. A tough bunch of men, no matter what the name. They crawl through heavy cars hooking up the line, Fixing wheels, brakes and knuckles, getting the train out on time. You know some of my best friends work these cars all 'round, To look for a better bunch of men none can be found. They work with heavy steel, bad order cards keep rolling in. No railroad could possible operate without this fine bunch of men. So clerks, trainmen, switchmen and all the rest, The next you see a carman, give him your best. >>> Back to Top <<< Another Blonde Joke by Larry Price, ©2005 Jerry lived out on a ranch. His wife was a blonde named Joan. She wasn't quite the smartest gal that I have ever known. Cattle prices hit the skids and they couldn't make ends meet. so they sold the ranch and moved to town and lived on Basin street. 'Twas in the fall of Sixty-nine, a winter to remember. The mercury fell plumb out of sight the last day of November. then it started snowing and the snow got real deep. The only way to get around was by horseback or a Jeep. It snowed and snowed all night long the snow was piled high. There was no way to drive around no matter how they'd try. So the street crew and the mayor devised a brilliant plan with the help of the radio station and also the weatherman. His announcement came out loud and clear and it was short and sweet. Folks were asked to move their cars to the odd numbered side of the street. So Joan went out and did her part to help that snowplow crew. She was a real good citizen. That's the least that she could do. And then next week it snowed again just like the week before. The radio announcer came to the rescue for order he needed to restore. But this time he made a different request and Joan did her job with pride. She did just as she was told and she parked on the even numbered side. All went well, the streets were clear, until next week it snowed once again. The announcer came on the air once more but this time his instructions weren't plain. The Blonde was left in an awful tizzy The announcer had left her in the dark she did not know just what she should do He didn't tell her where she should to park She fretted and fumed, What should she do? Where should she park her new Dodge? But cool heads prevailed when Jerry suggested, "Why don't you leave the car in the garage?" >>> Back to Top <<< Panhandle Phillips and the Grizzly Bear by Larry Price, ©2005 I've a tale to tell that's hard to believe and I'm not even sure that it's true. It's a story that's been around for years up north in the Caribou. Before the Nechako had been explored and the Algaks not yet mapped, The moose and wolves had not seen man. No beaver had yet been trapped. It happened up north of Anahim Lake on the Blackwater River I'm told. The story of a man who encountered a bear, so scared that his blood ran cold. Panhandle Phillips is the cowhand's name, a man of courage and luck. A transplanted puncher from down in the states but now for sure a Canuck. He'd got off his horse to give him a rest and was rolling himself a smoke. when up on the bank not fifty yards back, a big Grizzly bear awoke. The Grizzly gave him the once-over slow. No man had he ever seen. Up until now there'd been no man in this land so wild and pristine. Old Piledriver, the black that Panhandle rode, quit him right there on the spot. The terrified horse stumbled and fell, gained his feet and was off like a shot. Pan couldn't afford to excite the bear so he slowly rose up to his feet.. He carefully unholstered his old .44 but he knew that he was dead meat. It would be futile to try to scare him off, to yell or to shoot in the air. It would be a short race if he tried to run. He could holler but bears don't scare. He could smell the acrid stench of the bear as a breeze drifted in from the south. He spoke in a slow and soothing tone as he aimed at the bear's open mouth. "I'll put two in your mouth and two in your chest, but I doubt if you will drop. I'll fire at close range, but this ain't enough gun to bring you to a stop. Though I don't have a chance, I'll get off four shots and I know that you will die. But you're close enough to reach me quick. You'll die, but so will I." It was just as if the bear understood and he dropped down onto all four. He turned and ambled down the trail. Said Pan,"Good riddance old boar." Pan was a man who knew the ways of critters wild and free. The one most feared in the whole Northwest, the Grizzly bear, is he. He knows that a Grizzly is a curious beast and he likes a lively chase. So Pan don't run, but stands his ground and confronts him face to face. The nature of Pan's make-up wouldn't allow emotions to get in his way. And that's the reason for his cool actions that saved his life that day. He had no time to plan his moves, nor time to think things through but if you should ask him for advice, here's what he'd say to you. "Bell your horse and make some noise to let bears know you're there. Beyond all else stay clear of her cubs. Try not to surprise a bear. A bear, of course, will kill for food and will eat most anything. He's master of all that he surveys and in his world he's king. But if he perceives that there's no threat he won't kill just for fun, So you may be safer than you think you are if you just don't cut and run." >>> Back to Top <<< |
Page Directory Cowboy at a Fashion Show Johnnies Hair Piece Cowboy Gathering Legend of Ol' Kit Carman Rodeo Cowboy Smell of a Horse Another Blonde Joke Panhandle Phil & Grizzly Bear |