Saturday, December 31, 2011
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Back in the days when cattle range was prairies wide and lone,
Three Bar Z hands was winter-camped upon the Cimarrón.
Their callin' names was Booger Bill and Pinto Pete and Tug,
And though their little dugout camp was plenty warm and snug,
They got plumb discontented, for with Christmas drawin' near,
They couldn't see no prospects of no kind of Christmas cheer.
Pete spoke about the bailes he'd be missin' up at Taos.
Tug said he'd give his gizzard just to see a human house
Alight with Christmas candles; and ol' Booger Bill avowed
He's shoot the next galoot who spoke of Christmas cheer out loud.
They sure did have the lonesomes, but the first of Christmas week,
A wagonload of immigrants made camp off down the creek.
They'd come out from Missouri and was headin' farther west,
But had to stop a little while and give their team a rest.
They seemed to be pore nester folks, with maybe six or eight
As hungry lookin', barefoot kids as ever licked a plate.
"We've just got beans to offer you," the wagon woman smiled,
"But if you boys will join us, I will have a big pot b'iled
On Christmas day for dinner, and we'll do the best we kin
To make it seem like Christmas time, although our plates are tin!"
Them cowboys sort of stammered, but they promised her they'd come,
Then loped back to their dugout camp, and things begun to hum.
They whittled with their pocketknives, they sewed with rawhide threads,
They hammered and they braided and they raveled rope to shreds.
They butchered out a yearlin', and they baked a big ol' roast.
They scratched their heads to figger out what kids would like the most,
Till when they went on Christmas day to share the nesters' chuck,
They had a packhorse loaded with their homemade Christmas truck:
Bandanna dolls for little gals, with raveled rope for hair;
Some whittled wooden guns for boys, and for each kind a pair
Of rough-made rawhide moccasins. You should have seen the look
Upon that nester woman's face when from their pack they took
A batch of pies plumb full of prunes, some taffy made of lick,
And a pan of sourdough biscuits right around four inches thick.
That ain't the total tally, but it sort of gives a view
Of what three lonesome cowboys figgered out to try and do
To cure the Christmas lonesomes on the Cimarrón, amid
The wild coyotes and cattle--and they found it sure 'nough did.
S. Omar Barker
Posted by RG at 12:44 PM