Folks' Poems

Back to Lariat Laureate Contest
Back on home
Back to the list of Folks' Poems

JA FOX
Cariboo Country of British Columbia
About JA Fox

Jim Fox and Shasta

 

 

My Cattle Pennin' Angel


Well she's loadin' up the horses.
in the first cold light of day.
Cuz there's a pennin' down the road,
and she's just gotta play.

No bigger than a minute,
but she's standin' ten foot tall.
A fire burin' deep inside,
that makes her give her all.

When cows are there for pennin',
she won't be far behind.
she shares with me this game she loves,
her body heart and mind.

And I'm proud to be beside her,
as she runs to chase her goal.
Her true love she gives to me,
but pennin' has her soul.

JA Fox
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.




A Good Idea at the Time

Beer, Tequila and maybe some rum,
why it had to be booze, cuz I ain't that dumb.
To sign on a paper and actually pay,
to let some pot roast stomp me into the clay.

Well you sure enuff done 'er said old "Chilli Bean",
and that bull that you drawed,well he shore looks damn mean.
But the people have paid, and they want a good show,
and you and that bull got a date don't you know.

Now you boys must be funnin', or crazy I said,
I couldn't ride a dime horse with this ache in my head.
My belly is sick, so lets get out'a here'
cuz I need me some aspirin, a shot and a beer

But my exit is blocked by my so-called pals,
and I don't want'a look bad in front of the gals.
So I strap on my leggings and rosin the rope,
I turn to the chute and abandon all hope.

I settle that bull rope and I tie in my hand,
and my heart goes to beatin' like a big old brass band.
When a cowboy behind me says he turns back real fast,
and that's when I notice his crutches and cast.

I tried him last week expounded this guy,
and I swear to the Lord he can damn nearly fly.
And don't think its over when you hit the dirt,
cuz he'll turn round and give you a whole world of hurt.

Well I look at that bull and the folks in the stands,
then I reach down and I unwrap the rope from my hand.
I says turn him out boys, throw open the gate,
cuz I know he'll jump higher without all my weight.

JA Fox
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.


 

Murphy's Law

The boss came in the cookhouse,
as we was settin' down.
He called for our attention,
and then said with a frown.

The time has come to ship the herd,
cuz they're gettin' kinda old.
We'll keep all of our heifer calves,
and start a brand new fold.

Now I don't wanta use the liner,
cuz it tends to stress ''em out.
Besides he charges to damn much,
he added with a shout.

Old Doc an' me'll haul ''em in,
I heard myself say.
Cuz if we didn't volunteer,
we'd get sent any way.

Doc said he'd take the 'Binder,
and I could have the White.
And if we pushed ''er really hard,
and every thin' went right.

We'd get our selves a night in town,
tequila and a steak.
And dancin' with some pretty girls,
if we got half a break.

Doc knew the only bar in town,
cuz he'd bin there before.
They had a swingin' country band,
and we'd have fun for shore

So right at dawn next mornin',
'fore the dew was off the ground.
We loaded them cow critters,
with the help of our old hound.

And like a herd of turtles,
we roared out of the yard.
My foot was stuffed right to the floor,
Doc bringin' up rear guard.

We shook and rolled and rattled,
for what seemed like all day.
'Till we pulled off of that gravel road,
and on to the hi-way.

Now we really could get movin',
I figured with a thrill.
But 'bout the time I hit high gear,
we started up a hill.

My hands flew just like lightning,
gears ground with every change.
When we finally had stopped loosin' speed,
I was way down in low range.

For neigh on forty miles,
we climbed that mountain road,
Our progress it sure wasn't fast,
with such a heavy load.

But we finally made the summit,
and we stopped at a cafe,
To grab a bite of breakfast,
since noon had passed away.

But breakfast it was over,
and soup would have to do.
But as we walked to the trucks,
Doc near chocked on his chew.

For the 'Binder he was drivin',
was leanin' to'ard the ground.
You see the left front tire,
it was no longer round.

We got out jack and tire bars,
we sweated and we cussed.
But them dirty filthy lug nuts,
was welded on with rust.

Now Doc he looked around us,
and his scowl went away.
For he spied an old pipe fence,
that saw it's better day.

Doc grabbed a six foot length of pipe,
and he slid it on the bar
And I hammered with a eight pound sledge,
to give them nuts a jar.

Well 'bout two hours latter,
that tire once again was round.
So we rolled outa the parkin' lot,
and headed straight for town.

We was really makin' miles now,
and things was goin' fine.
'Till we caught up with some tourists,
"bout a dozen in a line.

Well they was bent at lookin' at the sights,
and travelin' real slow.
And they would not pull on over,
just to let us go.

So for over fifty miles,
we followed in that line.
'Till they pulled off of the hi-way.
when they spied a camp site sign.

Doc hollered on the C.B.
we ain't finished yet.
and we headed off at top speed,
into a red sunset.

We finally made the stock yards,
we got them cows off fine.
Our form threes signed, our shirts were changed
was only half past nine.

So we skipped our big steak dinner,
and headed for the bar.
Laughin' 'bout the fun we'd have,
now that we'd got this far.

We found a parkin' spot out front,
we halted with jerk.
But all the doors was boarded up,
the sign said men at work.

Closed for renovations,
the sign went on to say.
But we'll open up again real soon,
come back another day.

Well I looked over right at Doc,
who was kickin' at the door.
And said now what did you expect,
that's our kinda luck for shore.

Now Murphy was an Irishman,
an' that sure enough is true.
But judgin' from that law of his,
well he was a cowboy too.

JA Fox
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.

Read JA Fox's A Penner's Letter to Santa posted
 with other 2002 Holiday poems.

 

About JA Fox:

JA has been writing Cowboy Poetry since the early 70's where it started as a way to fill in the waiting time between saddle bronc and 'doggin' events at small town rodeos, ranch work, and to fill in the long lonely hours
behind the wheel of a tractor trailer. 

Jim Fox and Shasta

The picture at the top of the page is of JA and and his 22 year old morgan mare "Shasta," who earns her keep working cattle and baby sitting beginner riders.

 

 

www.cowboypoetry.com

 

HOME

 What's New | Poems

 Features | Events  

Poetry Submissions | Lariat Laureate Competition

Subscribe | Newsletter | Contact Us

  Join Us!

 

Authors retain copyright to their work; obtain an author's
permission before using a poem in any form.

 

CowboyPoetry.com 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