Stella and Jim Cathey,  2011 Falls County Memorial Day Ceremony

JIM CATHEY
Marlin, Texas
About Jim Cathey
Jim Cathey's web site

 

 

Headin' to the Dublin Rodeo

The day had shore been tough an’ if that weren’t enough
jest to make a feller want to spit.
I laid out my duds, then I lathered up in suds,
but found that the hot water had quit!

Now a cold water bath will shore cool off yore wrath,
an’ it don’t take you long to git clean.
But as you ponder yore plight, you git awful quiet,
an’ your thoughts tend to wander unseen.

I planned to take this ride, with my wife by my side,
headin’ to a far off rodeo.
Now she knows that her man always has a good plan,
an’ with me she intended to go.

So we loaded the ol’ truck an’ trusted to luck,
as we pulled out on that gravel road.
We had packed sorta light, got things stuck out of sight.
Best try to follow the cowboy code!

Shucks, yore lookin’ fer fun, an’ the trips just begun,
with nary a worry to dread.
Jest ridin’ along it seems, daydreamin’ our dreams,
of how fame an’ fortune would be spread.

By winnin’ first place, I’d shore set such a pace,
other hands would be a-shoutin’“ calf rope!”
‘Fore the end could draw nigh, contestants would shore sigh,
“There ain’t a chance!” an’ give up their hope.

So we headed on out with nary a doubt
that this trip would certainly be great!
Adventures we would share without even one care,
jest send others a-haulin’ their freight!

Now that seems a bit brash, tho I had made a splash,
as a rookie I had lots to learn.
So I jumps in with both feet, the champ to unseat.
‘Cuz this year the prize cup I will earn!

I settled to my task, no mercy will I ask,
workin’ hard to develop my skill.
Many long hours it will take to win the sweepstake,
but I know how to handle the drill.

So for hours I would work, not one job will I shirk.
An’ I toiled to bring it to perfection
this new self taught gift, that would for shore cause a rift,
seen pert near in every direction.

They just wouldn’t believe, tho some would shore ‘nuff grieve
when they heard that ol’ score read out loud.
When I prance in front of them, things will shore look grim.
But my wife will cheer and be proud.

Then the sky brighted up, as they brought out that cup,
polished to shine like a golden globe.
It was three foot tall, made the arena look small,
bright lights were flickerin’ like a strobe!

I know it will be soon, they are singin’ my tune!
Yet …I feel as if somethin’ ain’t square.
Then my wife calls to me an’… I wake up to see…???
I’m holdin’ my spittoon in the air!!

© 2010, Jim Cathey
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.

 

Jim told us:

“Headin’ to the Dublin Rodeo” was inspired from two different scenarios.

1. I grew up on a ranch near Dublin, Texas. The annual Dublin rodeo was the last major rodeo on the RCA rodeo circuit in the 1950s before the National Finals that were then held in New York City at Madison Square Garden. Young men from all around tried to make the Dublin rodeo because it was so important for their overall points. It was produced by the Lightning C Ranch that was co-owned by Everitt Colburn and the legendary movie cowboy Gene Autry.

2. The National Cowboy Poetry Rodeo, produced by Sam Jackson, was my 2nd inspiration. I found that the poetry rodeo requires a lot of the same kind of mental preparation and training that a stock rodeo requires.
 

---

 

My Ol' Daddy Always Sez

The ranch is calm ‘til end of night,
when daybreak's soon to come.
Then all will wake from dreamy sleep,
to sound of kettles' drum.

Then my Ol’ Daddy always sez,
“Boys, day lights a-burnin!”
We kick the covers an’ hit the floor
…our legs jest a churnin’.

There’s chores to do, ‘tho morn is cold,
an’ soon we get ‘em done.
By then the coffee pot is hot
an’ chow is soon begun.

Side meat, hot biscuits, an’ coffee
…you fight to get yore share.
‘Cuz this day will be long an’ tuff
an’ grub will shore be rare.

An’ then my Ol’ Daddy up an’ sez,
“We gotta hit the trail!.”
So ever’ man jack grabs a hoss
an’ through the dark we sail.

At daylight we are on the ridge,
shore ready fer our chance.
Then my Ol’ Daddy always sez,
“Boys, time to start the dance!”

As one we shout and urge our pony
to dash into the brush.
There’s critters there that plan to stay,
but soon they’ll have to flush.

Then we descend upon their lair
with shout an’ wave of hat.
They’ll turn an’ run ‘cuz now they’re spooked
an’ runnin’ to the flat.

Then my Ol’ Daddy up an sez,
“Boys, hold ‘em in a group!.”
We bunched ‘em up an’ moved ‘em down
that trail with shout an’ whoop.

Then my Ol’ Daddy pointed out
some hands to come with him.
Sez he, “we’re going back up there
to get them on the rim!”

‘Cuz some had stuck in thicker brush,
an’ would be hard to find.
So we scattered out an’ rode in
with ketchin’ on our mind.

We planned to drag ‘em outta there
an’ head ‘em down the trail.
We caught a few, but some would stay
that scattered like the quail.

Then my Ol’ Daddy up an’ sez,
“Them wormy hides can go!”
We took our catch an’ headed down
to workin’ pens below.

To coffee pot an’ chuck at last.
We did not say a word,
but piled right in an’ made a hand,
complanin’ jest warn’t heard.

with bellies full an’ coffee hot,
we lolled around the fire.
Slim picked a tune, made coyotes howl
…a regular outlaw choir.

Stories got told, an’ then a yawn
that spread to everyone.
Then my ol’ Daddy up an’ sez,
“Hit the sack, day is done.”

We crawled between them warm blankets
an’ soon were settled in.
To sleep the sleep of innocence,
a weary bunch of men.

The ranch is calm ‘til end of night,
when daybreak's soon to come.
Then all will wake from dreamy sleep
to sound of kettles' drum.

Then my Ol’ Daddy always sez,
“Boys, day lights a-burnin!”
We kick the covers an’ hit the floor
…our legs jest a churnin’!

© 2010, Jim Cathey
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.

Jim told us:

It was a fun poem to write and brought back a lot of memories of growing up in a simpler time. A time when you got all important news when you went to the barber shop or the sale barn. The trivia news was learned by accidently picking up the telephone, which was a party line, and hearing Gertrude talking to someone, usually about someone.

My Ol’ Daddy was quite a talkative feller. He lived to argue politics and knew a little bit about every subject. He also considered his opinions to be a notch above the average bear, and sometimes they were. He was authoritarian and believed in delegating jobs to whoever his hands might be at the time. Many of my conversations with others would often start out, "my Ol’ Daddy always sez..."

With this in mind and memories of yesteryear, the poem emerged.

---

Dang it, Charlie!

The cook house was dark and quiet

at the early break  o’ day.

Clyde’s words were very clear,

an’ Charlie could hear him say,

 

"Dang it, Charlie, listen to me!

You can’t aggravate the cook.

Now cool off an’ leave it alone,

don’t even give him a dirty look!

 

"If you name him, don’t let him know.

Look here! Don’t put him in a snit,

‘cuz  I’m tellin’ you right now

that cook will jest up an’ quit!”

 

…They’d shore ‘nuff had a hard day,

an’ it jest warn’t the bad weather,

ner them wild unruly critters

that kept them grabbin’ fer leather.

 

Nope, dang signs must have been wrong.

Started out first thang this mornin’

when they had got to the cookhouse an'

found the cook had quit without warnin’.

 

Clyde knew Charlie had done somthin’

‘cuz Ezra Burke wuz solid stock.

But Charlie had it in for him

an’ had a mind to wind his clock.

 

Wal, a cowboy has gotta eat

‘cuz work is hard an’ days is long.

So each one pitched in to help,

doin’ somethin’, even if it’s wrong.

 

What a sight them cowboys made

as each one of them gave a try,

heatin’ up that ol’ coffee pot,

slicin’ up some sidemeat to fry.

 

But somehow they got it done.

Then caught up their broncs to ride,

knowin’ them hosses would shore act sporty,

but them cowboys up an’ tried.

 

Cold mornin’s an’ them green broncs

can cause a cowboy plenty grief,

beat his innards to a pulp,

an’ clean his saddle like a thief.

 

But soon they had them bad boys rode.

An’ the cold mornin’ had warmed up.

They headed fer the Haynes pasture

with two cowdogs an’  a young pup.

 

All day they wuz workin’  them beeves,

catchin’, draggin’, an’ burnin’ hide.

Their ponies were pert near wore out,

when the boss sez,”That’s it. Let’s ride.”

 

Wal, Charlie gathers up the irons

to put on that ol’ pack mule,

ties ‘em tight  then grabs the lead rope

...with that ol’ mule actin’ the fool.

 

Wal sir, Charlie gets a good holt an'

sings out, “Whoa you dumb Ezra Burke.”

Then he sees Clyde lookin’ at him.

…He knew…Charlie had been the jerk.

 

Yeah, he’d named that mule for the cook!

Heck, their temperament was the same,

an’ it  jest seemed the thang to do…

The mule an’ the cook share the name.

 

Clyde sez, “You up an’ named it what?

I shore ‘nuff don’t quite get yore drift.

I’d hoped fer once you’d use yore head,

guess you see how you caused  a rift.

 

"Now look here, Charlie, at what you’ve done!

But I ‘spect you already knew.

How’ll  we ever work this out?

Dang it, Charlie, what you gonna do?”

 

Charlie had a bewildered look,

an' his eyes were open wide.

He shook his head in disbelief,

scratched  his jaw, an’ sighed,

 

“Wal, what the heck did I do wrong?

You said it was a shore ‘nuff plan.

So, I figgers it was all right.

Besides, I never did like that man.”

 

He slapped his thigh to show disgust

at a plan that had gone awry.

But there was still a slight hope;

at least he could up an’ try!

 

So Charlie took a big apple

to make amends… to that mule.

Figgered that wuz the least he could do.

No sir, he warn’t  nobody’s  fool.

 

Clyde looked at him an’ shook his head;

this wuz turnin’ out quite poorly.

So he looks up towards the sky,

an’ all he said was, "Dang it!  Charlie!"

© 2010, Jim Cathey
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.

 

Jim told us:

Growing up in the early 1950s wasn’t easy, but lookin’ back, life allowed us to pick up a chuckle now an’ then. Lord knows we needed all the chuckles we could get. We were a small outfit that struggled to make ends meet. Clyde an’ Charlie were a couple of hands that worked for my Ol’ Daddy when he needed extra help.

Charlie was a bumbler and would rather climb a tree to do something wrong instead of stayin’ on the ground to do it right, but Clyde always did his best to keep him out off trouble. My Ol’ Daddy always said, “Both of those ol’ boys was a pain in the rear, but you always knew where they were on a Saturday night, an’ you could count on ‘em to get the job done!”

I wrote this poem to bring back memories of yesteryear when life was a bit simpler an’ just about everyone was a character in one way or another.

 

 

---

  About Jim Cathey:
                                        provided 2011

I am Ol’ Jim Cathey, a retired school teacher from deep in the Heart of Texas, currently living in Falls County, in Marlin, Texas. I grew up in the Erath County ranching country on a ranch near Dublin, Texas. I am a graduate of Texas A&M University where I earned both Bachelor and Master of Science degrees. In 1964, I married my high school sweetheart, Stella. We have two children and seven grandchildren.

I currently have forty-seven poems committed to memory. Most of them are from the classic cowboy poets. I started writing in 2008 and have written 43 poems. I once recited a poem at the bottom of Sonora Caverns, thereby becoming the world’s first Underground Cowboy Poet!

I have performed for numerous civic, church, and school groups in the last 4-5 years. We have attended The Texas Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Alpine, TX, The Cowboy Symposium in Ruidoso, NM, Red Steagall’s Cowboy Gathering in Ft. Worth, TX, The National Cowboy Symposium in Lubbock, TX, the Western Heritage Expo in Waco, TX, and I was the featured cowboy poet at the Dublin, Texas Western Heritage Celebration in April of 2010. I have participated in the National Cowboy Poetry Rodeo in 2009 and 2010 in Montrose, CO and in 2011 in Kanab, UT.

www.bootsnrhymes.com

Ramblin's

2011

 

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