Storm clouds are gatherin'
as I saddle ol' Buck,
I'll get that fence mended
with speed an' some luck
Out here on the prairie,
where land meets the sky,
the lightenin' can get fierce
an' strike too near by
Storms come up quick
an' ya better seek shelter,
rain, sleet, an' hail
make ya run helter-skelter
Cattle get restless,
they sometimes stampede,
an' ya need hardened rovers
ridin' drag, an' the lead
Today I'll be watchin'
them clouds o're my head
'cause storms on the praire
are the worst, it's been said
So I pack up my gear,
my slicker n' such,
slouch hat, an' long coat,
hope I won't need 'em much
Tie a scarf 'round my neck
to keep out the dust
case them dirt-devils twirl
an' kick up a fuss
It's seven miles out,
I'll be workin' all day,
an' I better make haste
or there'll be hell to pay
The skies turnin' dark
an' clouds are now black
as I ease on ol' Buck,
he snorts an' rares back
Guess he smells trouble
out there on the range
so we'd best get the job done
for the weather does change
We reach destination,
I unload my stuff,
I'm stretchin' barbed wire
over ground that is rough
I work like the devil,
I plum bust my tail,
an' just as I finish
comes the lightenin' an' hail
I leap on ol' Buck
in my slicker an' coat,
the strikes are so close
my heart's in my throat
We head for the ranch
on the gallop an' run,
rain pours down my collar,
it sure ain't no fun
But just as we reach
the last mile of fence
there's fire in the sky
an' smoke starts to commence
Along the horizon
flames are now leapin',
straight up my spine
them chills are a creepin'
'Cause I see at the ranch,
the barn is on fire,
men pass water pails
an' it's my first desire
To prod ol' Buck faster
as we come 'round the bend,
if we lose them prize horses
it'll be 'most a sin
But my heart starts to quiet,
they've all been set free
an' are runnin' about,
makes me holler with glee
I jump off my horse
an' we all put it out,
then slap each one's back,
whistle an' shout
That's how we work
out here on the range,
we help one another,
to some that seems strange
But Cowboys 'll survive,
it's part of our creed
to buck bails, an' ride herd,
an' do a good deed
I'm proud to be one,
I won't hang my head,
ain't no man I envy
or life I'd choose instead.
© 2005, Tamara Hillman
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
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