Tales from the O-NO Ranch 10-11-10 | TheFencePost.com

Tales from the O-NO Ranch 10-11-10

Don’t give me no padded seat

or plastic saddle,

give me a Handcock hoss

and high headed cattle.


Give me an open range

and haired over land,

And don’t call me mister,

call me a “hand”.


Don’t let my cowboy butt

ever sit a tractor seat,

I don’t fix windmills

nor preachers do I meet.


God’s in my big sky

and just over the hill,

Every days a Sunday

as I prowl and mill.


I can sit a rank hoss

and rope a bunch quitin’ cow,

Most times I can two step and waltz,

but don’t ask me how.


I can pull a backwards calf,

patch a cancer eye,

Make a sourdough biscuit,

know every star in the sky.

That was a while back

and I rock and remember

Chasin’ wild cows

through the downed timber.

 Each evening at five I mosey down

to the dinning hall,

Eat with the other old folks

and listen for the bingo call.


They make my bed

and clean my room,

I sit in the lobby

most every afternoon.

Just watchin folks

come and go,

Hopin’ there might be

just one that I know.


Maybe someday a young

“waddie” will come in,

I’ll give ’em a nod

and a big Texas grin.


Maybe we’ll talk

and I’ll tell ’em how

Back in my time

I read the cow.


Stay tuned check yer cinch on occasion and I’ll c. ya.

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