MarkBerryman.net
Cowboy Poetry

Ode To The Cowboy Cook 
by Mark Berryman
(this is my first cowboy poem)

Gather round this pot of grub, and hear a tale of mine,
I'll tell ya 'bout the ol' camp cook, and of his place in time.
Now many folk have plied the trade, of slinging beef and bean,
Along the ranch, throughout the trail, across the western scene.

Ol' cookie, he's done his share, on cattle drive and trail,
Fought injuns, fought outlaws, made it through the same travails,
As any cowhand on the drive, from Bozeman to the Rio Grande,
As handy with a shootin' iron as with a cast iron pan.

Now everybody wants ta be top hand, no one wants to cook,
They'll rise early to jingle in horses, not give the stove a second look.
Unless there's no coffee in the pot, or bacon fryin' in the pan,
Then they look around to see if there's anyone else that can.

The ladies get all dreamy eyed, when they see them chaps and spurs,
Hopin' that the wrangler on a horse can be roped, then made hers.
No thought is given to the cook, unless it's eatin' time,
When there belly starts to growl, and they hear that ol' bell chime.

I know the cowboy's job is tough, his work, it can be hard,
And they deserve a hand from us, for bein' a good pard.
So thank the wrangler all you want, he's done his best for you,
Just remember to KISS THE COOK, 'cuz he deserves one too!

Love At First Sight (a cowboy love poem)
by Mark Berryman

There's them that say there is no such thing as love at first sight 
  They say it can't be true.
    But I'm here to tell you they're all wrong,
      'cuz I've been there myself too! 
Now it happened back when I wuz a young buck, 
  still wet behind the ears, 
    I was ridin' through the Arizona desert,
      not a worry nor a fear.
I had stopped atop Choya Ridge,
  to sit and pause a spell,
    When I caught the first glimpse of her,
      and it caused my heart to swell.
The sun caught every strand of hair, 
  made it shine like solid gold,
    And the outline of her agin' the sky
      made me feel a bit more bold.
Yes, she was built jus' right,
  every feature a work of art,
    And I longed to have her,
      and keep her in my heart.
Aw, but, it was not meant to be,
  for in an instant she was gone,
    And though I searched to find her,
      my luck had all gone wrong.
So now you've heard jus' how it happened,
  and the love that I declare,
    And though there may be others,
      I'll never forget that mare.

The Last Cowboy
by Mark Berryman

I hate to see the last cowboy gone,
It'll be an awful shame
T' finish th' last round-up
to see the last bronc tamed.

But the breed is gittin' fewer...
and fewer ev'ry day
And when it's gonna come ta pass,
fer now I jus' cain't say.

But when that last cowboy's gone,
there's one thing that stands true
We'll have lost a part of hist'ry...
an' a part of me 'n you.

These ain't necessarily Cowboy poetry, nor are they necessarily cowboy, but they are an experiment in the ancient oriental poetic artform of haiku. Down South, we just call them

                                 
HAI-Y'ALL-KUS

Thought I'd found me a                            The last words spoke By
Honky-tonk angel, but no!                         Bubba before he died-
Mechanical bull                                        Hold my beer, watch this.
------------ --------- -------                         ------------ ---------- --------
Down here you don't ask                           Can't go out today
No need because the pitcher                      This house is like a prison
Is always sweet tea                                  Lost my John Deere cap.
------------ --------- -------                         ------------ ---------- --------
I just don't care                                       Privacy was lost
How you did it where you're from                No solitude found, since the
We like it this way                                    Outhouse moved indoors.
------------ --------- -------                         ------------ ---------- --------
If you liked these lines                              If you don't like these
And laughed at one or two, youuuu             Witty southern hai-y'all-kus
Might be a redneck                                   Well, just kiss my grits.