Some days the trail is rough enough
to make them want to spit,
but for those who live out there
it's never bad enough to quit.
Get soaking wet to freeze all night
then ride out chasing strays,
after months and years of that
you wonder why he stays.
The big wide sky and solitude
being part of the appeal,
as well as everything he does
being just so doggoned real.
Sing or curse right out loud
anytime you want,
no self righteous prude to judge
if you spit and scratch or grunt.
Companions being a horse and dog
and all of you know your job;
to keep the herd from wandering off
as you gather up the mob.
Sure they belong to someone else
but he's at home in bed,
a week or two out there with you
would surely kill him dead.
Then they get driven in to be sold
and the men are fairly paid,
little enough for a tough job
of which most folks are afraid.
That is when the best reward
shows on their weathered faces,
reflecting courage and ability
earned out in tough hard places.
by Robert Quinn
all rights reserved
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