BETTY'S TRAIL RIDES

I met an old cowboy when I was out in a bar

and down life's trail he seemed to have come pretty far

His face was all lined and his hair and his beard were both white

but his eyes were blue, clear, dancing and bright

I had to find his secret to being young when I knew he was old

so I went over and asked him, and this is the story that he told

He took off his hat, all worn and dusty

smiled, and said, They just calls me Rusty

Now I don't claim to know what life's all about

I guess they's still trying to figure that one out

But I know what's helped me through the years to live

and that piece of advise, I'll freely give

You need 18 year old women, 60 year old whisky and 100 dollar bills

and to chase wild horses around in these hills

Now, I think about the old cowboy every now and again

and I don't think he meant with young women to commit sin

What he was trying to say in his own rough way

is to have a little fun in your long, busy day

Now, all work and no play makes Jack dull, it's been said

so have a little fun before you find yourself dead

All work and no play also makes one cranky and sour

it's a chore to stay around him for even one hour

So, for me it's 18 year old women and 60 year old whisky

and maybe when I'm old, I'll feel just as frisky poem by Jim Koning

Poem for the month of July, 2007

Black and White, Good and Bad and Such

Be they good or bad, I've heard it said, there is a place for cowboys when they die

now the bad, they chase ghost cattle forever across the endless sky

On and on they work, up close to the sun where it's very hot

They can't quit and they can't stop, their work goes on forever, like it or not

But as for the good, I know not where they go

'cause my hat's BLACK. That makes me bad. Rusty Hastings told me so

But it's not my fault, you see, 'cause when I picked the color of my hat

I didn't know about good and bad, black and white and things such as that

So I fell in with the wrong crowd, or maybe they fell in with me

I don't know which, I guess that's just how things be

So when you choose the color of your hat, make sure it's white

'cause that is good and that is right

For it all depends on the color you choose to wear

'cause at your hat they're going to stare.

Now it's always been that white is good and black is not

So choose the white. Don't be like me and go to a place that's very hot Poem by Jim Koning

Poem for the month of June, 2007

The Darn Fool

My city friend told me, the life of a cowboy sounds pretty darn rough,

just living outside, without a house, that's got to be tough.

Why, you'd bake when it's hot, and you'd freeze when it's cold,

you get all wet when it rains, and they don't pay you much gold.

You start your work when there's hardly enough light to see,

man, that's way too early for a guy like me.

Well, I listened to what my friend had to say,

and I thought, I must be a darn fool to live my life this way,

I get all wet and I fry and I freeze, I work long hours and draw short pay,

I guess I hadn't thought of it before in just that way

I'd always thought 'first light' was the best part of the day

When the air is all fresh and clean, and everything's brand new,

grass glistening like crystals, each blade with it's own drop of dew

Then I ride out and get to watch as the whole world comes to life,

and it's then that I think of my friend amid the busstle and the strife,

with his nerves all frayed and his temper about to fly,

while me and my horse, we just watch the hawks, the deer and the rest of the world go by

Then I ride on my way thinking that my life is pretty cool

I'm still not rich, but at least I'm feeling a whole lot less like some darn fool Poem by Jim Koning

Poem for the month of May, 2007

Remember the Cook

Come listen while I tell you 'bout the old cowboy cook,

now he didn't get his knowledge from school or readin' a book

Oh, he won't fix up any fancy chef's meals or food he calls high-falootin',

just build him a fire, and he'll cook something good, sure as shootin'

Now, the old cook has a reputation for being ugly, mean and rasty,

most times his disposition is nothing short of nasty

Well, he mumbles and he grumbles and he stomps up the dust,

and the cowboys sometimes rag him 'till he thinks he's going to bust

But the boys are never late to chuck when they hear the dinner call,

'cause the food is always good, and they're sure to eat it all

Now the old cook rises early, tries not to make a sound,

tries not to wake the cowboys, sleeping soundly on the ground

For he knows their work is hard, and their day is very long,

and when they're satisfied at breakfast, he knows their day won't go wrong

The old cook fixes meals out where the trails have never been brushed,

he goes to the creek and gets fresh, clean water that never has been flushed.

Now, he knows his work isn't glamorous, and he doesn't find much glory,

and you won't read about him much in any cowboy story

But when the day's work is over, and the dishes are all done up,

he sits by the fire and pours coffee in his cup

Then he rolls out his bed, 'neath the stars, in the pale moonlight,

and fades off to sleep, knowing another day has gone just right. Poem by Jim Koning

Poem for the month of April, 2007

Mister Rattler

I was out ridin', checking on cattle one day,

when I met Mr. Rattler, he was right there in my way

With his beady eyes starin', he was shakin' his tail,

that was his way of sayin' he wasn't leavin' the trail

Well, I had other ideas, of course,

but I was havin' some trouble controllin' my horse

Over the rocks and through the cactus he wanted to go,

and when he went he wasn't goin' slow

Well, I didn't want to pick cactus out of me all day,

so that ol' snake just had to get out of my way

I'd run him down his hole, I'd show him who's boss,

but I was still havin' trouble convincin' my hoss

He snorted and he whirled and he pitched this way and that,

and wouldn't you know it, he knocked off my hat!

Well, to someone lookin' on, we must have made quite a sight,

that little bitty critter givin' that big ol' horse such a fright

Now, Mr. Rattler, he did look all pleased and puffed up with pride,

me, all I wanted was to jerk off his ol' hide

Then I guess he'd done all he wanted to do,

scarin' that big ol' horse through and through

And I swear I heard him laugh as he slithered away,

but if we ever meet again Mr. Rattler, I'll be the one laughin' that day

Poem by Jim Koning

Poem for the month of March, 2007

Cowboys Don't Walk

A cowboy's motto is "Never walk when you can ride,"

that was mine too, when I was young I had my pride

If there was ever any work you couldn't do from a horse,

I'd turn that job down as a matter of course

'Cause in the saddle is a cowboy's work,

and that kind of job I'd never shirk

In the saddle I'd go flyin', my rope by my side,

'cause I'd never walk when I could ride

But a horse don't always want to be rode,

so every little while I'd get myself throwed

But I'd climb back on, full of bumps, bruises and minus some hide,

'cause I'd never walk when I could ride

Now that kind of life has caused some extra wear, to my head, my seat and my other parts too,

so now my arms and my legs, they don't work quite as good as they used to do

And now I'm gettin' a little older and my beard has patches of gray,

I wake up stiff, sore, and cranky 'most every day

And when the day's work is over and the sun's headed down in the west,

I'm right happy to dismount, so's I can get a little rest

Now they's other jobs, they tell me, they can be had far and wide

But they're not for me, 'cause I'll never WALK long's I can still ride

Poem by Jim Koning

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