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


About Harold Crow 



Goin Swimmin

It was hot and dusty
and the creek was runnin cold.
So, I thought that I'd go swimmin
I was feeling kind of bold.

Hung my cothes upon the saddle horn
hit the water on the run.
the water felt so good and cool
next to the summer sun.

I hoped nobody came by there
I felt vaulnerable and meek.
Cause I was swimmin naked,
down there in the creek.

My horse got spooked and broke the reins
and he began to run.
He ran off with all my clothes,
what a stuped thing I'd done!!

i wondered what the boys would think
when my horse came lopin in.
That scutter left me way out here
with nothin but my skin.

Well, Charlie Day came ridin up
a leadin my old bay.
"I caught him grazin in the draw,
figured he had got away".

I'm sure glad to see you pard,
I'm glad you caught that scamp.
Cause I sure was a dreadin,
walkin naked in to camp!

The next time I go swimmin
just the way that I was born.
You can bet that I don't hang my clothes
upon no saddle horn!!!

2004, Harold Crow 
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.

Cowboys Don't Skate

As I drove my pickup down thru town
I saw this skating rink.
I saw people skating on the ice
and it made me start to think.

I bet that I could do that
how much talent could it take?
I think I'm gonna buy me some
and I'm gonna learn to skate!

well, I bought a pair of skates
and when I put them on,
I found I couxln't stand up straight
and my balance, it was gone!

My feet were soon straight in the air
and me, flat on my back.
I tell you man I fell so hard,
I thought the ice would crack!

well, I gets up and try again
and fell again of course.
The ice it bruised my body some
like I'd been thrown from a horse.

I must have fell a hundred times
but, I'd get up and try some more.
And every time I tried it,
I'd wind up like before.

I've had too many broken bones
from times that I've been throwed.
And my old legs are bowed and bent
from the horses that I've rode.

I'm gonna take these danged things off
fore somethin starts to break.
And I don't believe that cowboys,
were ever meant to skate!!!!

2004, Harold Crow 
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.



Miss Laura

Each day we gather at the barn
and we got bad news today.
The foreman told us, "late last night,
Miss Laura passed away."

She was raised up in Chicago
cause her mother couldn't stand,
being forty-miles from nowhere,
there was nothing here but land!

So she moved east and took the girl,
the only child they had.
He stayed here and built this ranch,
so, she got it from her Dad

She came out here in twenty -nine,
the heir to this big  place.
She stepped off the train that day,
wearin satin trimmed in lace.

She didn't know which way was up,
bout cows and grazin land.
But, she learned fast, that spunky gal
was soon a real good hand

She used to ride and rope and brand
and doctor cattle too!
She could do most anything
that regular cowboys do.

Ore the years, she slowed down some,
but she still rode a bit.
She loved this place with all her heart
and she just couldn't quit!

She never did get married,
"Don't have time to catch a hand".
She didn't  want one any way,
she was married to this land!

She made this ranch one of the best
and she had the best of stock.
She was always there for us,
"solid as a rock"!

Well, we're sure gonna miss her,
her gentle loving smile.
Theres gonna be an empty space
for quite a long, long while!!

2004, Harold Crow 
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.


About Harold Crow:

I live on a little ranch in the Texas panhandle. I've lived on the plains all my life. I was raised on a ranch and worked on several here in west Texas.

I loved cowboying but, I got away from it for several years and became a Special Agent for the U. S. government. After twenty-three years of that, I retired and went to work as the Maintenance supervisor at a small country grade school. I went to this same school when I was in grade school. I tell the teachers that  just never graduated!



 What's New | Poems | Search

 Features | Events  

The BAR-D Roundup | Cowboy Poetry Week

Poetry Submissions 

Subscribe | Newsletter | Contact Us

  Join Us!


Authors retain copyright to their work; obtain an author's
permission before using a poem in any form. is a project of the Center for Western and Cowboy Poetry, Inc., a Federal and California tax-exempt non-profit 501 (c) (3) organization.  

Site copyright information