James H. Smith


He walked up and said, you’re a cowboy I’m told.
How romantic brave and bold,
To ride the range from daylight till dark
With not a care and happiness in your heart.
Whoa now my young friend and listen here.
I’ll tell you what it’s like, wrong I won’t you steer.
I was up and out before break of day
Making sure the stock had water and hay.
The water trough was iced over from last night’s freeze.
Broke the ice with my boot; went in to the knee.
That young brindle heifer had a calf last night.
Getting her to take it sure was a fight.
Now she’s down with milk fever, flat on her side.
Got to give her an IV; dropped the needle in the hay, Wish she had died.
No lunch today, the Herford bull is in with the neighbors cows.
I’m sure those Angus cows don’t mind; got to get him home somehow.
So I catch old Buck, cold saddle and back.
Yep he dumped me, landed limp as a sack.
Well at least my landing was soft –
In that manure pile over there, half high as the loft.
Well the bull’s in, I’m in the house at last.
This days been fun sure was a blast.
Dinner’s only two hours cold.
Heat it up yourself I was just told.
My right boot that was wet is still froze to my foot.
‘Fraid to take it off, at my foot I don’t want to look.
But it was just another romantic cowboy day.
What’s this? You turn up your nose and say.
What’s that smell that seems to follow as I walk by?
Why son that’s the smell of cowboy romance, give it a try.
Outside you’ll find more romance than you need;
Around here we just call it processed animal feed.

This poem reminded Colin Jones of his poem, “Beneath the Western Sun” ©Copyright October 1957 by Colin F. Jones