DOYLE R. (DOC) WOOD
Clay County, Texas
About Doc Wood
Small Ranch Fer Sale
I had a good wife when I bought this place.
Been six years or so since I seen her face.
Got tired of ranch life, said I wern’t too smart.
She deevorced me and now works at Wal-Mart.
There ain’t a lot left uv my little ranch,
‘Cept a parrot-mouthed stud; a mare named Blanche.
Got a danged ol’ bull that’s somewhat senile.
The cows ain’t seen him fer a long, long while.
And speakin’ uv cows, the herds down to five,
That is if all of ‘em er still alive.
Last time I seen ‘em wuz in the mesquites,
Grazin’ on the beans fer somethin’ to eat.
Used to have six till hunger took over.
Wuz them er me so I ate Miss Clover.
‘Nuther few weeks when the freezer gits bare,
Be down to four cows, my bull, stud and mare.
Lost mos my grass in a July 4th fire.
The fences er down to two strands uv wire.
My pickup broke down bout four months ago.
Four wheeler got flats, mesquite thorns ya know.
Not enuf rain fer the hay field this year.
I’ll bale johnson grass fore winter gits here.
Course I wudn’t need hay if I kud sell
all of my cattle ‘n horses as well.
That wud jus leave me with four dogs to feed
‘n fifty-three cats who eat, sleep and breed.
Now, the dogs chase rabbits; ketch quite a lot.
The cats feed on mice I shoot with rat shot.
That about does it, exceptin’ fer me.
I’ll find me sumpin’ you jus wait an’ see.
I’m givin’ up ranchin’, it ain’t much fun;
Freezin’ my tail off, bakin’ in the sun.
Now let’s see whut I can write in my ad
To tempt somebody to wont this place bad.
It’s gotta sound like sumpin’ I wud buy,
Caint tell ‘em the truth, jus gotta be sly.
Ten lovely acres way up on a hill;
A stock tank on top jus’ waitin’ to fill.
Livestock goes with it, five cows and a bull;
Trade ‘em fer sheep if ya’d rather sell wool.
Plenty of firewood fer cold winter nights.
Cut it yerself since you’ll have owner’s rights.
Whenever it rains, the grass will turn green,
Will save buyin’ feed, yuh know whut I mean.
Yer wife will certainly luv the great view
As long as she’s livin’ up here with you.
You kin ride the range on yer mare named Blanche,
As the proud new owner of Dead Broke Ranch.
© 2007, Doyle R. (Doc) Wood
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
Doc comments: We have what is known as the Texas Veteran's Land Program in Texas (of course). Individuals who were residents of Texas, when they entered any branch of the military services, can purchase acreage (minimum 10 acres) at low interest rates, on long terms and with little money down. When the program first became popular, many a qualified man sought out his plot of 10 acres and dragged his wife from the mall and out to the country. Most had dreams of becoming Texas ranchers on their little plot only to find out that one needed a bit more than 10 acres for a ranch and a bit more knowledge of livestock, animal medicine, and common sense than many of them had. Wasn't long thereafter, that a lot of marriages were on the rocks and a number of "small ranches" were on the market. Thus, "Small Ranch Fer Sale" came to mind.
Country Boy
I never cease to be amazed
at all kids have today,
and wonder if they’ll ever know
just what it means to play.
Dad built a wagon for me once
from four, short, split pine boards.
He found the wheels beside the road;
it’s tongue, two old lamp cords.
A length of rope tied to a limb
of one of our big oaks;
one worn out tire attached below;
great swing for country folks.
A rifle was a long, straight branch
chopped off a tall, slash pine.
It doubled as a fishing pole
by adding hook and line.
My swimming pool, a spring fed pond,
was cool and crystal clear,
although I had to share sometimes
with horses, cows and deer.
My dad and God worked hand-in-hand
to see that I had all
the things a country boy should have
when I was very small.© 2007, Doyle R. (Doc) Wood
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
Doc comments: It seems as if the older I get, the more appreciative I am of my rural roots and upbringing as a country boy. My father, an East Texas preacher, always taught me that God would provide all of our needs, and, a lot of our wants. Those words were the inspiration for “Country Boy,” and, as I look around today, I am saddened by the fact that so many of today’s youths will never experience the pleasures that I was fortunate to experience. We had so little, and yet, I had everything, all provided by my father and our Heavenly Father.
About Doyle R. (Doc) Wood:
Guess one might say that I’ve been more of a “horseboy” than a “cowboy” from the time I was born in the piney woods of Deep East Texas, back in the early 1940’s, throughout my career as an Army officer, and, during my 23 years of teaching following my Army career. Never did care one heck of a lot for cows but my Redhead and I always had horses to go along with the dump dogs and a wide variety of cats.
I began writing poetry only 3 years ago, at the age of 61, but, since that time, have won numerous local awards and several state awards in the Poetry Society of Texas. I have been published in the PST Book of the Year. Although I have written poetry in almost every form known, I prefer cowboy poetry and poetry about country folk and country living. I enjoy performing poetry about as well as writing due to my background in theatre. Give me an audience of no less than one matching set of ears and I’ll perform till the sun comes up.
I'm still living the country life, in rural Clay County Texas, and plan to remain here as long as my sun’s still shining. Got a lot of poems to write and a fence or two that needs splicing from time to time. And, I still got my Redhead who has a book or two of Honey Do’s to keep me occupied on this side of Heaven.
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