Charles Bell ~ Salt Lake City, Utah
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Young Cowboy Learns A Lesson
I'm goin'to tell you all a tale,
I swear it's the honest truth.
It happened a lotta years ago
When I was a cocky youth.
One day the boss says, "Saddle up
And git them cows to pasture,
Then git yourself back here again,
Don't take no time for rapture."
So, bein' young and in a rush,
I grabbed and bridled old Judy.
Now Judy had a mind of her own,
And she was very moody.
We drove the cows to the northern range,
Started back to the old home place.
Was ridin' along the highway fence
Singin', a smile on my face.
Now Judy had a sensitive butt.
If you poked her there she'd jump
And lift you up in the air a bit,
To come down again with a bump.
Ev'ry time a car passed by
I'd give Judy's butt a poke,
Showin' off to the folks on the road.
Too her it wasn't a joke.
Once I poked her a bit too hard
And then ran out of luck,
'Cause moody Judy got very mad,
Came up with a healthy buck.
I flew in the air much higher this time,
So when I hit her frame
On the ten'drest part of my sittin' spot,
I'd played a foolish game.
I rolled off her back and hit the ground
In agonizing pain.
I firmly resolved right there and then,
I'd not do that again.
Judy stopped and turned around,
Looked back as if to say,
"It serves you right you foolish boy,
You might be a man someday."
The moral of this tale could be,
If you're with woman or horse,
Always treat them kindly so they'll
Treat you for better, not worse.
�2005, Charles Bell
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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When My Ranching Days Are Over
Since my ranching days are over,
Eyes grow dim, and steps are slow,
My thoughts go rushing backward
To those days of long ago..
I remember sunlit prairies,
Woodland lake, and scented pine,
And in mem'ry I re-live
Those old ranching days of mine.
I can see the cattle grazing,
Getting fat on rangeland grass,
And the horses running freely
While through my mind they pass.
I see the snowy white clouds
Turning red at day's decline,
They float by as I recall
Those old ranching days of mine.
I ride again through sagebrush,
With a smell so sweet and fine,
Hear the meadowlarks singing
As they greet the day's sunshine.
And feel the wind on my face,
With a touch so soft and fine.
Happy days long remembered,
Those old ranching days of mine.
�2005, Charles Bell
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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A Day In The Lar'mie Range
The other day a friend of mine
Called me on the telephone line:
"Come on out to the ranch today
And we'll take some time off to play.
I gotta take a few salt blocks
To the licks by the Lar'mie rocks.
Bring your fish gear and I'll bring mine,
And when we're done we'll wet a line.
There's beaver ponds on Lodgepole creek,
And shucks, we just might stay a week."
So I tossed my gear in my truck,
Just a hopin' we'd have some luck
And ketch a brook trout or six,
And also fill up those salt licks.
At the ranch I looked at the sky;
"Might be thunderheads bye and bye,
But not enough to spoil our fun,
We'll have a good day in the sun."
Blocks loaded, up the trail we went
Lookin' to have a day well spent.
We dropped off the salt here and there
And then we drove over to where
Those Lodgepole trout waited for us.
And we set up without a fuss
Our fishin' gear with line and lure.
We were gonna ketch 'em for sure.
And ketch 'em we did, he and I
Under that blue Wyoming sky.
Then we cut some willow switches,
Built a fire, sat on our britches
And we cooked those lovely brook trout
Indian style, 'cause we were without
Any fancy cookin' things and stuff;
Then we ate 'til we'd had enough.
Full as ticks on any old sheep,
We laid back, had a little sleep.
Then we talked awhile about things,
'Bout days like this that tug heart strings.
We talked about the Lar'mie Range,
And how it never seems to change;
Not like us as we get older
And have pains in back and shoulder.
Drivin' down to the ranch again
We reminisced some more, and then
We had a drink, said a "goodbye,"
And I headed home with a sigh.
I thought about that glorious day,
Heard a small voice in my head say,
"There're durn few things I would exchange
For a day in the Lar'mie Range."
�2005, Charles Bell
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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A Perfect Day
Some may love the city with its endless flow of life,
With its turmoil and its hurry, and its never-ending strife.
But let me take my saddle bronc and a blanket roll and go
Where mountain streams are running swift, flecked with foam like snow,
Where the sun sinks slowly downward to the bosom of the West,
Sending forth its colorful rays o'er the land I love the best.
I may try to solve my troubles by the swiftly flowing stream,
But those cares slip from my shoulders and they seem to be a dream.
As the campfire flickers brightly while the moon lights up the sky,
And the stream nearby is singing a sweet evening lullaby,
As the sparks float slowly upward like tiny stars at play,
I can tally up another wonderful and perfect day.
Then I can lie down in comfort on soft boughs of balsam fir,
Recalling the past day's pleasure, I settle without a stir
While the mountains in lofty grandeur their silent watches keep,
With the trees stretched out above me I will drift on down to sleep.
�2005, Charles Bell
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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Cowboy's Revenge
Two cocky cowboys, Jim and Joe
Were havin' fun one day;
The boss came by and caught 'em cold
And he had this to say:
"I see you guys are goofin' off.
Without so much to do.
Well, I've a chore that needs to be done
By just the likes of you.
The brandin's done, corral's a mess,
There's cowpies all over the place.
The flies are thick, the smell is bad,
The place is a doggone disgrace.
While I go get the spreader rig
And tow it back to the yard,
You two go find some shovels 'n forks,
And I'll have you workin' hard."
Now Jim and Joe weren't happy at all
At this ugly turn of events;
'Cause they tho't this job was much too low
For a couple of cowboy gents.
Now Jim came up with a crazy plan:
They'd have a competition,
And see which one could win a prize
At cowpie deposition.
And Joe, he joined right in the fun,
And cowpies began to fly;
Those cowboys decided this cowpie fling
Would never end in a tie.
But Jim became a bit to enthused,
As he continued the race.
He flung a cowpie by mistake
Smack dab into poor Joe's face!
Poor Joe, he sputtered and gagged and spit,
And then became very grim,
Because he vowed that no cowpoke
Would get the best of him.
Jim tho't it funny and laffed it up;
Joe bided his time a bit,
'Til Jim bent down for another load-
It was time to make the hit.
He looked around all over the ground
'Till he found a pie so fresh,
'Twas sloppy and shiny and oh! so green;
It would really make a mess.
So when ole Jim lifted up his head
Just over the spreader's side,
He saw that cowpie missle come-
He had no place to hide.
As that cowpie flew, Joe opened his mouth
In a gesture of surprise,
And the sloppy cowpie filled it up,
And even covered his eyes!
Now you may call this a nasty tale
Of cowboy retribution.
It sure was not a fine display
Of cowpie disposition!
�2005, Charles Bell
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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Old Cowboy's Last Ride
I was sittin' there in my easy chair
Just a wonderin' what next to do
When all at once the telephone rang,
Someone calling me? I wondered who.
T'was my cousin Ronnie the foreman
Of the gigantic old Y-Cross spread.
We exchanged the normal pleasantries,
When suddenly this is what he said:
"Now, old buckaroo. I know that you
Are claiming to be getting so old,
But I need some cowboyin' from you
And codger, I know you ain't stone cold.
It's the time of year to make the drive
Of the cows and newborns to pasture,
To get them up to the summer range,
It's some help from you that we're after
For some of those doggone little calves
Have been born only a week or two,
And trailin 'em six miles up that hill
Is quite a bit more than they can do.
So if you'll consent to drive the truck
And pull the trailer along beside,
The cowboys can pick up those tired calves
And bring 'em to you to give 'em a ride."
Now, you may think this tale is grim,
But I was grateful to cousin Ron,
He gave me a small, but welcome chance
To relive those trailin' days long gone.
So I revved up my gasoline bronc.
And hustled my way out to the ranch.
To be out on the range for a day,
I figgered it would be my last chance.
All day the cows bawled and the calves howled,
As they got sep 'rated from each other.
But I knew when we got up the hill,
They would soon have a chance to mother.
When we had about a mile to go,
Cousin Ron came a ridin' over,
And said, "old codger let's make a swap,
I'll drive, mount up and be a drover."
I climbed up on old Buck, an old pal
I had ridden man-y times before.
And gallopin' went after the herd,
Song in my heart, happy to the core.
At last the drive was over, too soon.
We rounded up and pastured the bunch.
The cows and calves got all mothered up
And we sat down to have a late lunch.
Then down the mountain we all went,
And I was very happy and proud,
'Cause once more I did some cowboyin',
For sure I was ridin' on a cloud.
Now as I ride my gas bronc around
I thank the Lord that I'm still alive
To think of cousin Ron and old Buck,
And the day of my last cattle drive.
�2004, Charles Bell
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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Line Cabin Night
When the winds of winter freeze
The surface of hill and plain,
And with frozen icy weapons
Beat upon the window pane,
When the ground is deep covered
With drifts of the whitest snow,
And the air so clear I see
The ranch, way down there below.
That's when I sit and listen
To the north wind's mighty roar.
The fire in the fireplace throws
Crazy shadows on the floor.
Outside it's cold and darkness,
While inside it's warm and bright,
Settled down in solid comfort,
I call it-- Line Cabin Night.
�1995, Charles Bell
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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