Equestrian Network Magazine



	Cowboy Poetry
	by Bill Roberts

	The Twenty-Two


	I had a Colt revolver And the color it was blue. And when I pulled the trigger, The lead she really threw.

	Paid fifty-seven dollars And a quarter, maybe two; I can't quite remember, But I know that it was new.


	I used to practice daily To perfect a lightning draw. But I always did it out in back And hoped that no one saw.


	Til one day it dawned on me That I was pretty quick. So I went up on the mountain Just to try my little trick.


	I took out six new shiny shells And slid them one by one. Then I closed the gate behind them And pulled the hammer with my thumb.


	Now this was a single action, To be cocked before each shot, So I pulled the hammer clearing leather And out the lead flew, hot.


	Four more times I drew that gun, I shot lead low and high. By number six I was quick And I shot my thigh.



	Looking Back


	As I sit here by this fire And my thoughts go floating by, As I recall the fires That I've sat by 'neath the sky.


	I watched the smoke go drifting Down the draw right over there, By that spring that's in the alders Where I saw that little bear.


	I gave him lots of room 'Cause his mama must be near, And they sure do get protective Of their fussy little dears.


	I hear the bells a-ringing In the meadow right near by, And I could see those mules out grazing In the moonlight from the sky.


	The fires run together, In my mind they seem as one. Same as all those sunsets Or the rising of the sun.


	The horses that I have ridden, The mules that I have packed, The miles that I've traveled, I sure like looking back.



	Waking Up!


	I was headed to the mountains With a trailer load of mules. To pack in Mark Hills Conservation Corps, The ones from Montague.
	There was Jimmy, Chris and Brian, Mark and Jacob, too. Rhonda did the cooking And she took care of the food.	The Chuck Wagon


	I was up at three and caught the mules And on the road at four. I was thinking of some coffee But I wasn't near a store.


	And then I saw the yellow glow Of the Etna Shell store sign. I shifted gears and slowed her down, I knew I would be fine.


	I was still a little drowsy When I walked into the store And I found the coffee on the left Just inside the door.


I got one of those tall ones And a muffin, I recall, And a little plastic lid Just in case it were to fall.


I exchanged some coins and pleasantries And then I headed out the door. Back into the driver's seat, I was on the road once more.


I held the coffee with my legs So it wouldn't tip And it would be right handy To pick up and to sip.
I saw a truck was coming That I'd really have to watch, I pulled out just a little fast And spilled that coffee in my crotch.


Now I'd always heard that coffee Would help to keep awake, But I never really gave much thought How little it would take.


Well I can tell you surely That my eyes were open wide And I didn't need to look to tell What was burnt inside.
Now lots of folks have coffee In the north and in the south. But mostly take it from a cup And sip it with their mouth.


Bill Roberts is a packer for U.S. Forest Service and lives with his wife Peggy in Seiad Valley, California.

The photos in this article were taken by P. D. McKnight, between 1938 and 1940 in the Dog Canyon area of New Mexico on the H-Y Ranch that was a division of the American Cattle Company.


Do you have a short story, adventure or poem you would like us to publish? Send us your story, along with a picture of yourself, and we might publish it. Stories must not have been previously published or copyrighted. All photos must be taken or owned by you, and you must have full rights to them. Send your story to info@equestmagazine.com and write "horse story" in the subject line. All stories must be less than 800 words and have no typographical or grammatical errors. Who knows, your story may get published like Bill Roberts.


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