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JOHN C. CHAMBERLIN
Kerrville, Texas

 

 

 

Environmentalism

Jake and Buster were sitting around swapping lies
When a certain young man happened to pass by.
Jake said, "Buster, notice that feller over there?
He seems to be a little bit strange, I swear."

Buster said, "Yes Sir, I know what you mean
He is the strangest person that I've ever seen."
He has strange ways, different thoughts and schisms,
See, he's got what's called 'Environmentalism'.

"Environmentalism, why, what is that, said Jake?"
Buster said, "It's something that makes you act like a flake.
It makes you quit helping family and friends
For it's plants and animals you'd rather defend."

"To save the world of nature is their most fondest wish
And they would rather help out the least little fish.
They're against clearing trees, and fishing, and hunting
If they catch you doing it, they start moaning and grunting."

"They follow you around, they become such a pest,
They come from the east and they come from the west.
They run around showing off their college degrees,
I tell you it's a most infectious disease."

Jake said, "Well, what can be done with this kind?
We need a solution, but none comes to mind."
Buster said, "We've met a new kind here of late
And they're reproducing at an incredible rate."

"I'd take potshots at them, though it's against the law
It's the most terrible thing that I ever saw
If they'd just stay in the cities where they belong
Perhaps then we could all get along."

"But they have to interfere with our country way of life
And keep hanging around dealing all kinds of strife.
Environmentalism is a sickness these people have selected,
So don't stand too close, or you might get infected."

By John C. Chamberlin

John told us: I have had the occasional opportunity of getting to work with environmentalists in the past when I was working in the biological sciences field, and I have found their thinking to be quite unique and very different from my own. For that reason I no longer work in the biological sciences field.  Everything I have said about them in the poem is exactly how I feel about them. I am sure they have their place in society, but that place does not include me.
                       

 

With sadness, we learned of the death of Clay Lindley on September 1, 2005.  Clay, a cowboy poet, comedian, writer, musician and actor, was one of the originators of the Texas Cowboy Poetry Gathering at Alpine. There is an obituary in the San Angelo Standard Times. Memorials may be made to the First Methodist Church, P.O. Box 583, Mertzon, Texas 79641.

John C. Chamberlin sent this poem of tribute:

 

Tim, David, and Clay

We were workin' some cattle
Out West Texas way,
Me and my longtime friend
That we all knew as Clay

Tim  was there with us
And Dave came along, too
For we were all good friends
Both loyal and true.

There were no better cowboys
With which you could ride.
Being with these fellers
Made you feel good inside.

Tim was a pack man,
He could load any mule
Dave was good with an axe
And he kept our fires fueled.

Good ol' Clay was just about
The best horseman around
And everyone knew him
When he came to their town.

We'd had a long day
So when evening came 'round
Clay sang to the cattle
To settle them down.

Now, it was my job
To prepare the food
Of which no one complained
So I guess it was good.

We had just finished eating
When rain started to falling
The cattle began stirring,
They started to bawling

Then we all heard
A most awesome sound
A terrible thunder
That roared all around.

There was lightning that streaked
Across a dark sky
And we all knew it was time
To cinch up and ride

The cattle began running
To no special place
So we saddled our ponies,
And followed post haste.

Tim and Dave both rode flank
And I took riding drag
Clay took the point
Waving his hat like a flag.

The cattle rushed into
A creek of dry sand
That was a main tributary
To the mighty Rio Grande.

The rain was falling
So hard and so fast
I knew that our luck
Just simply couldn't last.

The creek began running
But before I knew it
I looked down at my right spur
And water was up to it.

The water engulfed us
Cows and cowboys and all
The horses would stumble
And the cowboys would fall.

We started to swim
For all safety's sake.
Then the water carried me
To a small shallow lake.

I finally made it
To where my feet touched the ground.
Ahead of me I could hear
The most terrible sounds

I could still hear the cows,
I could still hear the horses,
And I could still hear my friends
In their shrill hollow voices.

Through the lightning I saw
The floods carry them down
And then all of a sudden
I heard no more sounds.

I do not know why
I was spared in this way.
Or why I had lost
Three friends in one day.

Now here I must pause
And take just a minute
To tell you that this story
Has not one truth in it.

For my three good friends
Tim, David, and Clay
Would have dearly wanted
To die in this way.

Instead of dying slowly
In a hospital bed.
Or dying of infection
That went to their head.

So I pay tribute to them
Tim, David, and Clay
They're gone and I still wonder
Why I'm living today.


2005, John C.  Chamberlin
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.


 

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