FOLK COLLECTION 11: The Skaggs Foundation Cowboy Poetry Collection

The Song of the Hunter

FC 11 L-40

78

Robert L. Laumeyer

My Parents

If you wonder, was I really bad? Just remember the parents I had. The image, of they who knew me first, Always kept me, from being my worst. (end)

The Song of the Hunter

FC 11 L-40

79

Robert L. Laumeyer

A Philosophical Goodbye

Idealist: When our words match our inner thoughts And we feel their truth to the core. There is no prize nor any praise, That can give us any more. Realist: Our handwriting is bad It even makes us squint;

The Song of the Hunter

FC 11 L-40

79

Robert L. Laumeyer

Twilight Reflections

My book of poetry I lay away. THe clikc of the switch, marks the close of the day. Alone in the dark, with time to think, As if of life to take one long drink; And savor the flavor, so eminently brewed, For thought and refleciton are life's food

Confessions of A Cowboy Poet

FC 11 C-52

102

Bob Christensen

Please Pass the Lamb

The largest cowman in our valley and one from down the creek held a meeting with some sheep men at the hotel just last week. The BLM was represented,

Confessions of A Cowboy Poet

FC 11 C-52

103

Bob Christensen

Beef Cook-Off

Hey! Buckaroos and Buckerettes y'all gather 'round right now and ponder on these notions on how best to cook a cow. It's the annual spring "Beef Cook- Off'

Confessions of A Cowboy Poet

FC 11 C-52

105

Bob Christensen

Snack Food

We got a note a short while back, it was written by our vet. Advising us to keep away all goodies from our pet. Now usually when I sit down to a ball game on T.V. I have two full grown boxer dogs a crawling over me.

Confessions of A Cowboy Poet

FC 11 C-52

106

Bob Christensen

The Perfect Deer Hunt

The alarm was set so he would get a plenty early start. He'd planned all year, the time was near he was chompin' to depart. But there was a flaw, 'twas Murphy's Law, the alarm it didn't ring.

Confessions of A Cowboy Poet

FC 11 C-52

107

Bob Christensen

Confusion

When I shovels and I shovel s till my agin' back is sore and I turns and sees I'm onjly just a few feet from my door then I puts my shovel down, no, I ain't a givin' up

Confessions of A Cowboy Poet

FC 11 C-52

108

Bob Christensen

Ode To A Corn Pit

"An oozing mass of liquid putridness," Ah, 'twas Poe who said it best. But had he ever sniffed a corn pit when it's juices reached the crest? And foully spread across the roadway cutting rivulets

Confessions of A Cowboy Poet

FC 11 C-52

109

Bob Christensen

Cowboy Prayer 1990

I'm just a first time caller Lord so I hope you'll take the time to let me say what's in my heart, I've put it in a rhyme. First off, I want to thank you for how good you've been to me

Confessions of A Cowboy Poet

FC 11 C-52

110

Bob Christensen

Cowboy Poet's Dream

It might have been that last burrito, smothered thick with "Texas Red" or that jalapeno glaze on my ice cream; Because never had I ever had a dream that seemed so real that I sat straight up in bed and had to scream.

Confessions of A Cowboy Poet

FC 11 C-52

112

Bob Christensen

The Handout

He wondered, "Did I have four bits?" His breath was strong from drink I dropped some change into his hand then started in to think. He said that it would get him by 'cause he got paid tomorrow I wondered if he meant a check

Confessions of A Cowboy Poet

FC 11 C-52

113

Bob Christensen

The Last Ride

I've rode to camp ahead of some, a short cut if you please the trail was strewn with jagged rock and rugged fallen trees. It's surely not the trail to take but I didn't have my druthers

Confessions of A Cowboy Poet

FC 11 C-52

114

Bob Christensen

Counsel And Candor

The families both had gathered for the nuptial date was here; the bride was young and blushing and the groom he showed some fear. The preacher was expounding on the pros of married life

Confessions of A Cowboy Poet

FC 11 C-52

115

Bob Christensen

The Dear Jack Letter

It's true he'd been out west a spell but regularly he wrote. Once in the spring again in fall she'd always get a note. She surely knew she was his gal and some day they would wed. Five years is not so long to wait, it's not like he was dead.

Confessions of A Cowboy Poet

FC 11 C-52

116

Bob Christensen

The Memory Bag

I went back to the homestead for a visit just last week as I rummaged through the barn my eye caught just a peek of this old canvas water bag a hangin' on a nail; It took me back to yesteryear, a trip down memory's trail.

Confessions of A Cowboy Poet

FC 11 C-52

117

Bob Christensen

Yesteryear

When I was young and lived out here before the houses grew there wasn't many folks around but those that were you knew. And everybody had a farm and worked it with a team you'd start at dawn and quit at dark with not much rest between.

Confessions of A Cowboy Poet

FC 11 C-52

118

Bob Christensen

Reality

Did you ever take the water on a clear and starry night when the moon was just a sliver and didn't throw much light? Did you stretch out on the ditch bank while you waited for the stream and watch the stars a twinklin' as you fought the urge

Confessions of A Cowboy Poet

FC 11 C-52

119

Bob Christensen

A Bad Idea

Did you ever milk a cow by hand? Now not with a machine. Just runnin' loose in the corral, it's quite a different thing. You buckle on a one leg stool and then you start the chase;

Confessions of A Cowboy Poet

FC 11 C-52

120

Bob Christensen

The Threshers

I remember when the treshers came, we'd bind and shock the grain the haul it to the big machine they'd park along the lane. We'd hire several neighbors to sack and weigh the wheat one hundred twenty pounds per bag and then we'd sew them neat.

Confessions of A Cowboy Poet

FC 11 C-52

120

Bob Christensen

The Derrick Horse

When I was just a shaver and my dad was haulin' hay I'd pester him unmercifully and be right in his way. I wanted just to help him out and be part of the crew "I might be just a six year old but there's something I can do.

Confessions of A Cowboy Poet

FC 11 C-52

121

Bob Christensen

Public Servants

A lady wrote a letter to the mayor of our town. It stated, "we need sidewalks" so he let it trickle down to the council and the planners who had nothing else to do but to put the plan in motion

Confessions of A Cowboy Poet

FC 11 C-52

123

Bob Christensen

Something New

I was riding in Senora, I'd been out hunting strays when the notion hit to mosey into town. It had been two days since breakfast so I'm thinking of a steak and some Jose Cuervo just to wash it down.

Confessions of A Cowboy Poet

FC 11 C-52

125

Bob Christensen

Cheering Up Pardner

For years I tended cattle, spent my days on top a horse my home has always been out of the range but kid, you see I'm older now, my mind skips to the past and my body parts are acting mighty strange.

Confessions of A Cowboy Poet

FC 11 C-52

126

Bob Christensen

Making Do

Wednesdays is when I go for mail so I saddles up and hits the trail. It's twenty miles into our town but I goes it without steppin' down. The livestock sale is held today so I goes there first without delay looks like they got some fancy stock I takes a seat right next to Doc.