Hats - Cowboy Poetry

So you came over Shirttail after driving through the Rye Valley sage brush? I hate driving that road stone cold sober, wide awake in the middle of the day.
 
So you came over Shirttail after driving through the Rye Valley sage brush? I hate driving that road stone cold sober, wide awake in the middle of the day.
Yep, shirttail sounds right. Try it with a few inches of snow on it. Those curves as you rise out of the valley and up to Gold Ridge, are not friendly even chained on all 4 in a four wheel drive. I have no idea how it is these days, but back then having your life extra right with Jesus was a good idea. One old rancher told me they depended on their prayers getting priority attention.
 
Old Cows and Cowboys

There comes a time in every life
where age catches up with youth.
And as it does it's hard to swallow,
But still and all, it's truth.
A cowboys days are numbered
by boots he's worn till tattered,
and dreams that change with seasons
mostly broken up and battered.
And the cows he tends have limits
that are counted by their births,
the leaving of a mark to say
they once had walked the earth.
The cull comes quick
for those that quit,
or lose their way
And stumble.
The ones that last are
those with grit,
the ones that
rarely grumble.
But the time still comes
like boots wear out,
Time finds us soon enough
as we all know, no doubt.

C. Henry Martens
 
Old Cows and Cowboys

There comes a time in every life
where age catches up with youth.
And as it does it's hard to swallow,
But still and all, it's truth.
A cowboys days are numbered
by boots he's worn till tattered,
and dreams that change with seasons
mostly broken up and battered.
And the cows he tends have limits
that are counted by their births,
the leaving of a mark to say
they once had walked the earth.
The cull comes quick
for those that quit,
or lose their way
And stumble.
The ones that last are
those with grit,
the ones that
rarely grumble.
But the time still comes
like boots wear out,
Time finds us soon enough
as we all know, no doubt.

C. Henry Martens
Are you C Henry? I am guessing you are also a guitar picker.
 
Yep, shirttail sounds right. Try it with a few inches of snow on it. Those curves as you rise out of the valley and up to Gold Ridge, are not friendly even chained on all 4 in a four wheel drive. I have no idea how it is these days, but back then having your life extra right with Jesus was a good idea. One old rancher told me they depended on their prayers getting priority attention.
The neighbor's wife use to be the 911 operator. Mid winter several years ago. There was a wreck somewhere by Baker. They had a jillion dollar horse in the trailer. They had a ride for the horse but west bound on the freeway was closed. The ride was stuck at the Rye Valley exit. 911 called the neighbor to come get the horse and deliver it to the Rye Valley exit. He did it but then he couldn't get back home. So he chains up all four wheels plus the trailer. Drives up Dixie Creek to Rye Valley and then down Shirttail in over a foot of snow. Insanity!!! I would have just slept in the truck until they opened the freeway.
 
The Proposal
Fay Holiday
Wild West Word Slinger
June 2 2022

Our lives are like a book, we read and then we turn a page
Such is the story of a Texas rancher, that busted rib cage
He's now a city slicker all for real and all bona fie
Front porch pickin, making his guitar weep and cry

The drought left his land parched and dry as a bone
His woman, his love, his neighbor, just up and passed on
His dog of 22 years then died, now leaving him alone
There is more, don't hang up, please hold on the phone

He won't speak of his river encounter with banditos drippin
His words are few, his guitar sings between whiskey sippin
In an undisclosed town, not Laredo but south of El Paso
Does he still have a pickup and the ladies try to lasso?

Front porch pickin and grinnin as the bottle rim touches his lips
His whiskey might last him all day, if taken in small sips
Singing old cowboy songs of lost love and times now gone
With his guitar and bottle, he will never be alone

His stories are sure to make one laugh or maybe cry
The latest one he tells with a teardrop in his eye
How he wants to meet me, a match is supposed
Matching his wicked ways, with mine is proposed

Well, could such a proposal and match survive?
Old Willie and Charles sang about such jive
Will I return to Texas, pick guitar and thrive?
Nope, I'll never return to Texas, at least not alive
 
What is a Cowgirl
Fay Holiday
Wild West Word Slinger
Oct. 12 2022

I never wore jeans tight and adorned with pearl
Maybe that is why, no one ever called me a cowgirl

I wore all cotton relaxed jeans for the cattle call
Branding calves while for their mama they bawl

My boots were plain cowhide from former beef
And not made from stingrays from the barrier reef

My boots had semi round toes and usable high heels
And not made for dancing like the Hollywood deals

My boots had tall shafts, way up to the knee
Covered with jeans so no rattlesnake could see

I seldom rode a horse because our ranch had no need
Not even for a working horse, let alone a rodeo steed

Yep, no one ever called me a cowgirl
Regardless of how you spin or twirl

I never wore a big buckle diggin into my belly
So all the cowboys would exclaim, "Whoa Nelly"

Even though I relieved young bulls
Removing their bloodline jewels

While the wrangler boys stepped aside and choked with hurl
No one, whether cowboys or wranglers, ever called me cowgirl

Shouldn't horse mounted women that never worked cattle
Be called horsegirls, not cowgirls, I question with tattle

Never being called a cowgirl, I have no remorse
Because I worked cattle, with and without a horse

So I call myself a cowgirl in jest
Now on the keyboard, I become a pest
 
Ridin for the Brand
Fay Holiday
Wild West Word Slinger
Oct. 12 2022

So many times I think we see judgment day as a grand party in heaven
Where those doing spectacular deeds are honored like bread that is leaven

Those little things one may have done are forgotten and minuscule
But once I review the criteria set forth in the golden rule

I know my vision of honor for doing grand deeds in the eyes of those that saw
Mean nothing, it is the little things done without notice, that fulfill the law

No one may have noticed when you took time to help one sick of aged years
When you canceled your plans to go to rodeo, win a buckle roping steers

The Good Lord, the Great Spirit, doesn't care about all the fanfare and great ado
It is the small individual ingredients, mixed and melded, that make one's life stew

So many times we hear the saying, "Don't sweat the little thing"
So then it goes overlooked, multiplies, and hits us with a bang

Attending to the things that are considered little
A waste of time, non-lucrative, and nothing but a piddle

Are viewed in a different way by the one that is the light
So take a moment to do one little thing, you know it is right

Prayers alone are not enough for those that need our aid
Small deeds without conditions are forever, even after prayers may fade

Did you miss a sensational time-breaking ride at the local rodeo
Because you stopped to comfort one, that was feeling low?

So it is the little things that others may never see or know about
That will sway your case in heavenly favor, it is written without a doubt

Will you ride for the brand doing unknown deeds for your fellow man?
That one small thing may be huge to another, so do it if you can.
 
Headin Home
Fay Holiday
Wild West Word Slinger
Oct. 15 2022

Met an old man on the trail
He was kinda just moseying along
Reined up to hear what he had to say
Said he was headed over to the breaks
Returning to where he was born
Hoping to live there until his final day

He looked about as weathered
As a southwest-facing barn door
Don't believe I could make a mile
In his boots or his horses' shoes
He said his bottle was emptied
Of whiskey many years ago
Now full of teardrops instead of booze

Then he talked of all that were dead and gone
He never thought he would miss them all that much
But now that they all were six feet in the ground
He missed them all, friends, family, and neighbors
Yes, he missed them all, the entire bunch

He talked about a woman that was loyal until she died
He talked about all the big herds he had rounded up
All about the drought that had turned the grass brown
About wildfire that took fall feed and the cougar that killed his pup

All those things he said were nutin, absolutely nutin
Compare to the wolf lovers and starry-eyed liberal nuts
That are warring against cattle and even the sheep
Their philosophy is hollow he said, nothin just ifs and buts

I agreed that nothin, nothin about the west is getting better
Only worse with all the hate, politics, and change
And while I know the grass is greener, much greener in heaven
Still, these final days ranchin blues got me feelin strange
 
Day Before Christmas
Fay Holiday
Dec. 24 1978

Snow and twenty below bring thoughts of monkeys made of brass
And dreams of spring with cattle grazing on the tall green grass
It was the day before Christmas, nothing was stirring, not even a mouse
The call of nature called number two, I hadn't yet shoveled to the old outhouse

Even though I had donned my thigh-high wool stockings with care
My mind worried and fretted, could I shovel fast and safely get there
Then all of a sudden to my eyes what should appear
But a 6-foot-high drift at the privy door, my worst fear

With vim and vigor, I shoveled like a crazy woman with no pose
Only to get inside to find the seat lid iced and froze
As I gingerly lowered my cheeks on the frozen fog
I saw no TP, nothing except the emergency Sears catalog
 
Eastern Oregon Bigfoot
Fay Holiday
Wild West Word Slinger
11 15 2023

The Eastern Oregon bigfoot, sasquatch, he don't leave no track
Come mess with Eastern Oregon, home, you will never get back

The bigfoot roams the mountains, he watches the valleys on down
He sees those tofu lovin commies, encroaching from Portland town

His power and size are legend, he leaves no huge footprint
He isn't taken serious, by those on rural destruction bend

They thought the wolves would break him, they made a minor dent
So when you liberal wackos come calling, let me voice you this hint

The Eastern Oregon bigfoot, sasquatch, he don't leave no track
Come mess with Eastern Oregon, home, you will never get back

Unlike the bigfoot elsewhere, our EO sasquatch no track he leave
He has eluded Yeti trackers for years, leaving them to fume and grieve

So start your war on cattle, deny his existence, call it a legend in EO
While he watches from mountain peaks, all the valleys down below

He sees all and isn't happy, with the wrongs being done to ranches
Fear the day you know his existence, with more than breaking branches

When the Eastern Oregon bigfoot finally leaves his giant track
Better run home to mama Portland, while you can still get back

So for now, revel in disrespect, call our friend Indian folklore
He sees and hears all, your craziness is making him sore

And here is to hoping and praying, you don't good horse sense lack
Just know, beware, be advised and please respect this well-known fact

The Eastern Oregon bigfoot, sasquatch, he don't leave no track
Come mess with Eastern Oregon, home, you will never get back
 
Forgive Me Lord
Fay Holiday
Wild West Word Slinger
March 11 2023

"You know, it is all gone forever," she said
With her hands holding her bended head
"Paradise is lost and stripped to the bone
The old days of hardships forever are gone."

"It's funny we never realized those trying hard days
With trials and tribulations that set our eyes a glaze
Were really paradise, we thought some were hell
Now past a point of return, it's all clear as a bell."

"That year of drought with prairie grass low
Vast acres in drought and only sagebrush would grow
Was just the way it was in paradise so grand
Now gone forever, where million dollar houses stand."

"What ranch will be the last of America lost?
The greedy developers never weight the real cost
As they tear up paradise for the money they lust
And lay down more pavement and settle the dust."

"Forgive me Lord for complaining about the harsh time
That was just another day in paradise so sublime
Now lost forever and it's memory now in faded print
Forgive me Lord," she said with her head bent.
 
Tight Rodeo Jeans
Fay Holiday
Wild West Word Slinger
Aug. 10 2023

I asked my grandma why boys loved ridin buckin bulls
She said she didn't know, but thought they were fulls

My grandpa just said boys will be boys
And like pickups, bulls, and tractor toys

I was confused, not about the bull, but the tractor
Because I loved John Deere and as a girl that was a factor

I didn't understand about girls will be girls
And therefore love rubies, diamonds and pearls

And I still don't, I guess I never will
Even now as I journey over the hill

Thinkin about my rodeo days so silly
Tight jeans, doing rope tricks, and ropin a billy

Ranch rodeo time, off a broc with little buck
My tough girl status was tarnished, bad luck

That goat debut labeled me a roper of the goat horn
The Wrangler neighbor boys would tease, mocking with scorn

But if my tight jeaned gapped thighs, labeled me a derogatory bronc buster
My neighbor Wrangler bros took the kid down, like old General Custer

Apparently it was alright for them to joke about my tight jeaned ridin dance
But it was derogatory if other boys joked about, their fake sisters stance

Now being old, ranchers are more polite, kind, and classy
And don't make such jokes about an old cow lady's chassis

Time to watch the dust fly rather than eat it
Now out for my walk, the heat I must beat it

I can still be bossy, rather sassy, and throw a noose
Butt now I wear my jeans more relaxed and loose
 
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Tin Versus Hide Pony
Fay Holiday
Wild West Word Slinger
April 23 2025

Many say you ain't no cowboy, unless you have a pony
I call horse pucky and pure beef baloney
In days of pokin cattle, along the Old Chisholm Trail
They needed horses, ponies, and mules oh well

But these days things are changing, leanin toward ATV
Boots and britches last longer, that we can see
No spurs are needed, to encourage it to run
Like a horse it is great, for hard work or fun

Although you didn't ask, here's my philosophy
About side by side, motorcycles, and ATV
Hay, grass, or oats, they don't need to burn
So, listen close if you have concern

It's side by sides, motorcycles, ATVs, and gas
Replacing the horse, the mule, hay, and the grass
But wait, one thing that I just haven't seen
That's ranchers growing, their own gasoline
 
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What is a Cowgirl
Fay Holiday
Wild West Word Slinger
Oct. 12 2022

I never wore jeans tight and adorned with pearl
Maybe that is why, no one ever called me a cowgirl

I wore all cotton relaxed jeans for the cattle call
Branding calves while for their mama they bawl

My boots were plain cowhide from former beef
And not made from stingrays from the barrier reef

My boots had semi round toes and usable high heels
And not made for dancing like the Hollywood deals

My boots had tall shafts, way up to the knee
Covered with jeans so no rattlesnake could see

I seldom rode a horse because our ranch had no need
Not even for a working horse, let alone a rodeo steed

Yep, no one ever called me a cowgirl
Regardless of how you spin or twirl

I never wore a big buckle diggin into my belly
So all the cowboys would exclaim, "Whoa Nelly"

Even though I relieved young bulls
Removing their bloodline jewels

While the wrangler boys stepped aside and choked with hurl
No one, whether cowboys or wranglers, ever called me cowgirl

Shouldn't horse mounted women that never worked cattle
Be called horsegirls, not cowgirls, I question with tattle

Never being called a cowgirl, I have no remorse
Because I worked cattle, with and without a horse

So I call myself a cowgirl in jest
Now on the keyboard, I become a pest
I have a friend who was raised on a big family ranch between Condon and Arlington. They summered the cows on a big range down at Rudio. In his very young days they were still driving the cows from Condon to Rudio in the spring and back again in the fall. That has to be a 4 day drive, maybe more. He said his aunts and female cousins were all pretty handy having worked on that drive many times. He said you didn't refer to them as "cowgirls" because to them a cowgirl was a buckle bunny at the rodeo. But them them that they are a pretty good cowboy and watch them puff up with pride.
 

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