Cowboy Poetry and Music and More at the BAR-D Ranch

Angelo Pecora, playing banjo and reciting poetry at Paws Up Resort and Ranch

Seeley Lake, Montana
About Angelo Pecora




Border Collie Soliloquy

She was just going
To town
For supplies, and
Clara hopped in,
Glad for the ride; and
Off they went
My dog and my bride.

Now I was in the barn
Trimmin' my horse
When in bounds Clara
No longer lookin' coarse.
She pranced, she bounced,
She spun there in circles...
I feel to my knees
Lookin' for mir-cles.

She was fluffy!...Curly!
Her white as steam-cleaned,
Her black now shiny and silky
Like Jersey cow cream
An odorous scent
Lifted on high; she
Smelt to high heaven
Like fresh cherry pie.

"Ya ruint my dog"
I said with a frown,
"She can't hunt cattle
Dressed as a clown.
You've taken her starch;
Ruint her nerve...
Did ya ever stop to think?"

"Oh pooh," she said,
"All I've taken
Was her stink.
You'll get used to her
It shouldn't be hard...and
Do it quick cuz
You're next...

2012, Angelo Pecora
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without permission.

Angelo Pecora comments:  The idea came to me last year when my wife took Clara on the long trip to town for shopping. When she returned she didn't even look or act like the ol 12-year-old stockdog that left. Seems the long trip to Missoula was a little "Stinky" for Kat in the Hat. So rather then put up with the stink for an hour and twenty minutes more on the way home she stopped and Clara went to the salon. When I protested she said I was next...I shut up pretty quick.



The Remount

Was a time
Not so long ago
I'd saddle ol Biscuit,
Cinch 'er down and
Collar his brisket.
I would lift that
Saddle in one fluid
Have it set before
He even got a

Was a time
Not so long ago
Our hips and legs
All worked as new
And off we'd trot such
A headstrong crew.
Why we could ride twenty
Miles pullin' a string then
Dismount giddy at
Havin' such a fling

Biscuit there is swayback
Now, and me
My joints don't work.
Biscuit and I have
Developed some quirks.

We still saddle up
Our hearts as strong as
A Yearling wolf pup,
I crawl that saddle high
Into place
With a grunt, Biscuit
Full of grace,
Begins to search me
A mounting stump.

2014, Angelo Pecora
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without permission.


Angelo Pecora comments, ""I built a nice high-back saddle for myself and now I have to lift my leg over with my friggin' hand, hence...'The Remount.'"



When All Hope is Lost

When all hope is
On the Western Slope, and
All yer doin' is ropin' a mope:
Yer only companion
In that line shack lair
Is your close personal friend
Mr. Lonesome Despair.

The cattle are lost
Or froze
Ya don't know which...
God only knows.
Once of course, there used to
Be Hope, but
Now it seems She's aa
A leisurely lope.

Yer pony's on rations
Of straw bales and bark,
The firewood is sparse and
Ya now curse the dark.
Yer thinkin' that town job
Would work
Providing ya live through this
Spring blizzardy quirk.

Ya go to sleep with
The stove door open,
And plop on the cot
No longer hopin"

Ya awaken at dawn
Yer pony a snortin'
A cloudless day with a
Chinook a blowin'.

Ya hurry and saddle
Somewhat timid yet glad,
And spur him on to the Ranch
Down below and think,"Well Hell,
This weren't so bad."

2016, Angelo Pecora
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without permission.

Angelo Pecora told us about the poem's inspiration, "When I was packin' for an outfitter I would ride out with my string and take a few days gettin' to the main camp. I had time and loneliness to contemplate what an old boy would think and feel isolated all winter in some old cow camp...."


    About Angelo Percora
         provided 2012

Although I was born in N. Ohio I have had a love affair with all things Western since I was 8, fifty-six years ago. I migrated west to Michigan to attend a college and earned a degree in American Lit and Poetry. I won a poetry contest in 1967, won $75.00 and bought my first pocket watch which I still wear to this day.

I retired from the Feed and Grain business after thirty odd years in Michigan. I've been to two saddlemaking schools and own and operate Clearwater Saddle Shop here in Seeley Lake, Montana. I also ran an 80-head cow calf operation back East...but I had to milk em twice a day!

I worked for an outfitter in Colorado for a time and ran a string of mules. I own Rosie the mule and Woodrow the red dun. I also work at Paws Up Resort 6 days a week. I ride into camp on my mule and play the banjo, harmonica, and recite and read cowboy poetry to the guests, whether they want it or not.



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