Tuesday, December 20, 2011


Recently while visiting a friend she shared a wonderful piece of cowboy poetry with me. I want to share it with you. By the way, she wrote it.

The old man rose from the table,
Said, "Thar's somethin' I gotta do."
T'weren't no question 'bout what it was.
The family, they all knew.

His wife's fine feast sat before him.
And she'd outdone herself, o'course.
Sure, his mind was on his belly,
But his heart was on his horse.

The old woman sittin' beside him
gave his wrinkled worn hand a squeeze.
She knew where the old man was goin',
It touched her old heart.
She was pleased.

While the man made his way to the pasture.
The old woman went on with her prayer.
She blesed the food there before them.
And the heart of her old man--out there.

The gelding he loved was old now.
The years, they'd left their mark.
But that somethin' tween the two of'm
Was more than just a spark.

His outstretched hand stroked the muzzle.
The other held a bucket of grain.
He pondered once more, 'bout days gone by.
With feeble fingers, he patted its mane.

"Thanks for givin'," the old man began.
"Yer all, to th' likes of me.
I'm grateful fer yer gut n' grit,
Fer th' price ya paid, tweren't free.

"Thanks fer givin' when th' days was hot,
And when th' rain soaked m'saddle through.
What got th' work done, th' two of us knows,
Weren't my strength at all, it were you.

"Thanks fer givin," the old man went on,
"When th' sun set an' we was half done.
When them beeves, jist fer spite,
splintered ever' which-a-way,
Kept us both movin' hard on th' run.

"Old friend, ya been more than faithful,
And see'd ever' job clean through.
Ya gave me yer all when youth was yourn,
Now I'll be a-caring fer you.

"Lord, take care o' this ol' buckskin.
See'm right through ta his end.
Cause thar ain't never been a more faithful mount.
No better a faithful friend.

"He deserves it, ya see, dear Father,
Done worked hard beyond his due.
How and when he meets his end.
I'll be leavin' that, Lord, up to You.

"Jist give'm greener pastures
Fer helpin' me make m'livin'.
Remind'm now and then fer me.
Jist tell'm 'Thanks fer givin'."

The old cowboy stood a-starin',
Allowing nostalgia near,
A-way out in the pasture,
Where no one else could hear.

"Thanks fer givin," he stroked him once more.
"I'll be a-headin' back now.
Enjoy yer grain, eat it nice n' slow
An don't be a-runnin' them cows."

His contented look as he sat back down,
Brought a smile to those sittin' there.
The old man had tended to busines first.
Without fanfare he spoke out a prayer.

"Lord, thanks fer givin' ta them gathered here,
"Fer good health, an our way a livin'.
"Thanks fer loanin' ol' buckskin to me.
"An bless'm, dear Lord . . . fer givin'."

Written by my dear friend, Deborah J. Note of Eagle Point Oregon

Thank you DJ for helping us feel one of the souls God's givin'.

Grace and peace to you from God,



  1. Nice. I loved it. Merry Christmas!

  2. Thanks Tammy for leaving a comment. I always love stories and poems that tug at my heart.

    Merry Christmas!