Tribute to a buddy, who can't ride no more.

[RollingThunder]

I recently found out a good friend of mine from Arizona is having to hang up her spurs 'cause of health-related reasons. So it prompted me to toss this together as a tribute. Hope it works for ya'll.

Also, I just wanted to let everyone who reads these know that I'm gonna do my level best to get over here and do more than just post poetry, perhaps READ AND POST on other's posts. LOL. Life's been a bit like a really bad country song set on repeat lately. But it'll get there.

I’ll Ride for You
© 2008, Roland Millington, All Rights Reserved

I’ll ride for you, friend. Always. You’re with me.
You’re soul is in my saddle, your spirit in the tree
That holds the leather, so like the thick tough hide you had.
An’ the brass dees, the half-worn old wool saddle pad

That’s seen many a mile, over the tops of hills,
The nooks, and the dawning light’s early thrills.
I’ll ride for you. Because you can’t ride anymore.
Because you’d be here with us, instead of at the door

Of another new chapter of your life, a new day
Dawns and drinks you in, full of promise, and bids you stay
Full of grit and might and could and will if I know you.
Because you’re my good friend, a friend who’s true.

And I’ll ride for you. I’ll spend hours in the saddle
I’ll think of you with every hoss I straddle
And think, I miss my buddy. My compadre.
Though, I know you’re just a little ways away.

I don’t have lots of folks I call friends, ‘ceptin three or four.
An’ I don’t have much use for the rest of the world’s score
Keepin’ count like they do just ain’t been tallied up even.
Not to me anyway, but you kept me believin’

That this place weren’t really all half bad.
With your jokes and that keen sharp wit you always had.
You gave me belief in myself when it weren’t in sight.
You showed me day was there, if I’d just shut out the night.

I still can’t help but feel this sense of loss
Like a chill wind come blowin’ down to freeze the moss
And take a hold until winter comes ‘round
Giving peace, and serenity to the frozen ground.

In the spring, we’ll see each other, good pards again.
We’ll be renewed with a brightness and a spirit within.
We’ll be laughin’ and jokin’ just like when we was new
And carefree as young colts still wet with mornin’ dew.

And I’ll ride for you.

[Lucky Irish Tom]

Good one R.T.

[RollingThunder]

 

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[Tensleep]

Way ta go RT!

[Silver Creek Slim]

Another good one, pard.

Slim

[RollingThunder]

Say, how many of these dadburned things do I gotta write before I can throw them all together in a book? LOL. I figure if I price them right, they'd make fantastic kindlin' !

[RollingThunder]

Oh, and just to prove I don't always write tear-jerkers ... here's a "bonus track" fer ya'll.

I’s the Best Puncher in This Here Camp
© Roland Millington 2008, All Rights Reserved

Widduh Larimer came out to camp last week
While we was parked up by Steelehead Creek.
She said to us, “Boys, Now I need to know,
Seein’s how it’s me that’ll be runnin’ this show,

“Which one of ya’lls the best in the bunch
I gots my feelins, but I don’t play to no hunch.
When it comes to headin’ up my whole outfit
I wanna feller who’s dadgum pert near with it.”

So she looked over us all, then to old Tall Bill
And the rest of us boys, we got mighty still.
She finally came out with her curiosity
“Is there a cowpoke here, better’n ye?"

Well, old Tall Bill, he’s mighty lean on words.
He said he figures most aren’t fit for the birds.
“Ma’am, when it comes to just who’s the cowpoke champ,
Well, I’s the best puncher in this here camp.”

She spat on the ground and eyed him again
Just like she was a’fixin’ to flatten his grin
“You sorry old oaf, I done seen you ride
You couldn’t pull leather, much less pull hide

Nor hair off any old pony here,
And rid’n’s perdy ‘portant to me, I fear.
Not ta mention yer a pretty old sort
But I doubt you’s much good when you’s a young little sport.

So don’t let me hear ya braggin’, ya blustery ol' fool.
There’s six or seven men here could take ya ta school.
So if somewhere here, I find me a champ,
It won’t be you who’s the best in this camp.”

Now Tall Bill looked mad, his face was all red.
And jes when we was feared the widduh was dead,
Tall Bill tipped his head back and roared
And we was plumb flattened like an old washboard.

The widduh looked downright corn-fuzzled
And shoot, we too, was all sorta puzzled
‘Bout what old Tall Bill found so funny
What was it that turned him from burnt to sunny?

“Ma’am, I think you mistook the words that I said
I don’t think they settled quite right in your head.
See this here cowpoke, come in with Gonzales?
Well his name’s Ingnatio Hernandez De La Meneo …

… Up from Nogales.

"And a five-dollar handle like that’s a whole mess.
So we shortened his name up, cause we thought it was best.
We got it real tiny, and got it plumb simplified.
We here round camp, well we just call him ‘I.’

"He’s a roper, and a rider, and a judge of horseflesh.
When it comes to cow work, well, he’s simply the best.
Ma’am, when it comes to who here is the cowpoke champ,
Well, I’s the best puncher in this here camp.”

 

Night ya'll!

[Tensleep]

HELL YEAH!!! That's a good 'un!

[litl rooster]

HELL YEAH!!! That's a good 'un!

   Yep have to agree that is a gud 'un

[Pony Racer]

AWESOME!!

[Leo Tanner]

Don't stop Man.
     I love readin it, just wish I could write it like you. 


Leo