Cowboy Poets
13 Oct
The desert swims like a silver sea
In the light of a big full moon
And strong and clear there comes to me
The lilt of the first guard’s tune.
Fire camp is burning bright,
Cook’s got more wood than he needs
We’ll be telling some awful tales tonight
Of races and big stampedes.
I’m getting too old for that line of talk:
The desperados they’ve known,
Their wonderful methods of handling stock
And, the fellows they have seen get thrown
What’s that I see walking fast?
It’s a horse that’s slipping through.
He is trying to make it out through the pass:
Come mighty near doin’ it too.
Get back there. What are you trying to do?
You have no chance to bolt.
Old boy, I was wrangling a bunch like you
Before you was even a colt.
- From “The Old Night Hawk” by Bruce Kiskaddon
Cowboy Poets in full from the amazing Folkstreams
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