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

About Bob Marshall



Winter Move

When the moon dips below the blue western foothills
And the sun starts its quick skyward fly,
The horses are saddled for another long day
of moving the herd down the rise.

Away from the summer and those green mountain pastures
To the land near the river bank's edge.
Pulling up stakes and moving the cattle
To the shelter of the tableland's ledge.

Gathering strays and leppies and first cuts
And bringing them into the fold.
Driving them home for a long winter season
Of blizzards and snow squalls and cold

The crisp autumn winds knife through your woolies,
And prick at your ear lobes and nose.
Your blood turns to ice, all feelings are gone
From your leather-clad fingers and toes.

Another two days, hard in the saddle
and you’ll see in the sky up ahead
The thin gray trail of smoke from a chimney
Warming your table and bed.

And when the thaws come and the snows fill the river
And the pastures to green begin,
You’ll round up your cavvy and move to the mountains
Pushing those cattle again.

© 2011, Bob Marshall
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without permission.

Jey Jey

Old “Doc” Austin showed today at the Diamond M
Checked out the grulla horse, to see what was bothering him.
He’d been takin’ gimpy steps, seemed a tad bit sore.
So “Doc” commenced his prodding after walking through the door.

A little push here and a squeeze there, is all it seemed to take,
For “Doc” to figure it all out and diagnosis make.
“He’s just a tad arthritic, with bone spur issues too,
We’ll treat him with some steroid shots and a couple scoops of bute.”

“Stall rest is what’s best for him. Don’t turn him with the herd.”
But, stall rest to that grulla boy, was like caging a wild bird.
He spent the day calling out to his cavvy mates,
Occasionally, they’d call back from the pasture gate.

He paced the floor of his pen, from one side to the other,
And, worked himself up into quite a foamy lather.
He tossed his head and threw a fit, confined inside that stall,
Then once again, he’d raise his voice in a screeching bawl.

I understood the angst he felt, closed inside that barn,
While life seemed to pass him by, outside on the farm.
“What’s better for the soul” I ask, “A body that’s pain free?
Or freely roam about with friends, the way life’s meant to be?”

© 2013, Bob Marshall
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without permission.


The Spider and the Fly

When you view the world ‘tween a horses ears, it’s easy to keep to yourself
Hoarding your dreams and hiding your wishes, high out of reach on a shelf.
Pushing the cattle, good dog by your side and the wail of a red tail hawk.
Your days become lifetimes when you ride for the brand, watching over the stock.

But, the cowboy life is just like the spider that lured that fly to her nest.
She’ll tempt you and tease you, promise to please you and put your soul to the test.
All of the dreams and every emotion you kept buried and wanted to hide,
Are lured from your heart by her spun web of cunning, like the spider did to the fly.

But, there’s a “Come to God” moment when you look deep inside and inventory your soul
When push comes to shove and the river is risin’ and you’re sittin’ way down below.
When you ask yourself the hardest of questions and wait for the reply,
Was it of value, was your life all worth living, if today was the day that you died?

Well, there’s a special feeling of cowboy reward that a man will tend to feel
When the branding is finished at the end of the day or a sickly calf is healed.
It’s felt from within, it’s bigger than life and wells up deep inside,
When you work for the brand, tending God’s creatures and he’s riding there by your side.

© 2013, Bob Marshall
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without permission.



  About Bob Marshall
Provided 2012

Bob Marshall currently lives in Michigan, training horses. However, he comes by the cowboy way of life via his father and a life in Kansas, raised on a working cattle ranch.

Bob is a nationally touring cowboy entertainer who guides his audiences through the western way of life with his original music, poetry and storytelling. Performing professionally for over forty years, Bob was asked to perform as a part of the internationally known folk group, The New Christie Minstrels. Bob passed on that opportunity as it would have taken him away from the cowboy life. 





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