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Albion, Nebraska
About Pat Boilesen




Goin' To Grass One More Time

The young cowboy stands and watches the old one cross the yard,
And he can see each shufflin' step he takes is pretty hard.
He watches and knows he's lookin' at...himself 40 years from now
So, he knows what the old man's thinkin'; and knows he's gotta' stop him somehow.

Two generations meet there at the gate and stare each other down.
The youngest is the first to give and his eyes drop to the ground.
He says,  " Dad you just can't go. You and Ole' Gray are past yer prime!"
But he knows he's lost when his Dad says "Son, I'm goin' to grass one more time."

In the corral the waiting cattle stand, 300 head or maybe four;
they know where they're goin', they smell the grass, and won't stand there for much more.
The son understands both the critters, and the old man's feelins' inside
For there's nothin' quite like the feelin' of goin' to grass one more time.

But spring had come late, both man and beast were ready to be on the way.
No matter how sharp the puncher, this was going to be one hard day.
This herd was rank and could be the toughest herd they'd had.
The boy knew they'd have to watch em' with no time for watchin' old Dad.

But at half past 6 they're headin' em out; old man and Old Gray are there,
When he saw them, the young man threw down his hat and swung his fist in the air.
He said, "You and that grey are just too old, but I'm tired of arguin' with you.
If you want to kill both you and the horse that's just what you're gonna do."

At half past 8 they're headin' em' out, the corral left far behind.
Old man and old horse are keepin' up...heck, they're both doin' fine.
So the young one quits his worryin' and settles down to ride,
Enjoyin' the sounds all around  him of goin' to grass one more time.

Nobody knows what happened 'cause it happened so durn fast,
But Old Gray was down and no one saw until the cattle passed.
They found the old man lying beside the old gray horse.
They knew that for the two of them, life had run its course.

The young one knelt there by his Dad, fightin' back the tears.
Knowin' what was happenin' was the worst of all his fears.
Then, the old man whispered feebly,
"Son, this time, I guess that you were right.

We two old fools will see the stars  from up above tonight.
Heck Son, it's true the two of us are way past our prime.
Oh but Son, ain't it great....we're headin' em out
Goin' to grass one more time."

© 1996,  Pat Boilesen
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.

Pat told us: The inspiration for this poem came when my husband and I were driving down a county road and were forced to stop because of a cattle drive taking place. Because we were not in a hurry, we enjoyed watching the progress. In the rear of the drive. My husband knew the ranchers involved in the drive and recognized an older rider. As we watched, he said "Pat, I think you should write a song about goin' to grass one more time." That's all it took! I wrote what I thought was going to be a song, but as I wrote, I knew I had written my very first cowboy poem! It has twice won me 1st place in Cowboy Poetry competitions. Finally, the old rancher who inspired the poem passed away a short time after his children heard the was used for his memorial service. A greater reward a writer cannot have for what he or she writes.



Stallion Canyon

Run stallion run and keep running.
Run till your blood has run cold.
Run stallion run and keep running.
May you never stop 'cause you're old.

I guess you could say we're both drifters. I guess we go with the wind.
I guess that's what brought us together. I guess that's what made us friends.
I first saw him on the horizon. His beauty took my breath away.
He seemed to be looking me over before gracefully running away.

This 16 hand stallion was black; as black as his dark canyon floor.
'Cept for the star on his forehead, and 4 white socks that he wore.
He seemed to live in the canyon, so Stallion Canyon's its name.
Though nobody once found an entrance, he was seen on its floor just the same.

Many wanted this beauty that made the canyon his home.
But no man could ever get near him, and freedom was all he had known.
They say this stallion's a killer, but I believe he was not.
Stallions and men who are drifters were just never meant to be caught.

Day and night I watched him, and I know that he watched me.
Till one day he slowly walked up to me, decidin' that I was okay.
Now bein' a drifter I drifted away but found I missed my old friend.
When I returned the stallion was gone, and I couldn't find him again.

Then I heard he'd been caught and talk was of how he had fought.
It took 20 wranglers to rope him, but break him so far they could not.
I knew what I had to do then. I had to set my friend free.
Knowin' full well that if I got caught, I'd hang from the ole Hangin' Tree.

So late one night in the moonlight I found him in a corral
I opened the gate then stood there to wait to bid him a final farewell.
Then the night came alive with shoutin' and I knew I couldn't hide.
He stopped and let me jump on his back and then into the night we did ride.

They chased us up to the canyon. At its rim I knew we were penned.
But the Stallion reared up and he through me. Then into the canyon he went.
Now I still miss that great stallion. We were alike and good friends.
The canyon that once was his home is his grave but he's better off there than penned.

Now sometimes when the moon's at it's fullest and the stars are shining and bright.
If you look out on the horizon, you'll see a black horse in the night.
Could be it's some other stallion, but deep in my heart I believe
It's my stallion out there letting me know he's forever young now and free.

Run Stallion Run and keep running,
Run till your blood has run cold.
Run Stallion Run and keep running.
May you never stop 'cause you're old.

© 2001,  Pat Boilesen
These lyrics may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.

Pat told us: This poem was written for a competition. The subject material for this competition is drawn from a hat, (actually, an ice cream bucket). I drew "stallion canyon." As a child, I rode a beautiful black mare, gentle as a kitten, and as honest and faithful as God Himself, so it was a given that the stallion in my poem had to be a duplicate of "Babe." The story the poem tells was easy to write...I simply let my imagination go free, just like the stallion in the poem.


About Pat Boilesen:

Pat Boilesen truly is a daughter of Nebraska. She was born and raised in the beautiful North Loup River Valley. Today she lives with her husband in Albion, Nebraska, a town with the nickname of “Gateway to the Sandhills.” Pat cannot remember a time when she was not performing, although she admits her first performances were for the cattle in her father’s pasture!

She made her dream of performing on stage in the 1980’s and her career is as much a part of her life as sleeping and eating! “I know I was meant to be a wife, mother and performer…that makes life easy to live with because I love what I do!”

Pat’s career covers a broad range of styles and roles. She began as a honky-tonk pianist, then added singing and songwriting. She has performed in everything from community theater Broadway productions to dance bands, but her favorite remains western, traditional folk and gospel. She has won countless competitions as a pianist, singer, writer and poet. Today, she often judges or presents workshops in writing or piano at festivals.

In the early 1990’s she was accepted by both the Nebraska Arts Council and the Nebraska Humanities Council as a musician and presenter in their organization. She continues to present for both organizations today.

In the mid 1990’s, she added Cowboy Poetry to her list of favorites and today enjoys writing poetry as much as songwriting. Much of her writing pays tribute to the unsung heroes of the west and the pioneer. She believes the life she lives today is because of the sacrifice and values of the pioneer and cowboy.

Pat was inducted into the Mid-America National Traditional Music Hall of Fame in Anita, Iowa in 1999,  and in 2005 was inducted into the Midwest Country Music Heritage “Virtual” Museum, Library and Hall of Fame. She has performed on stages across the country and has been an employee of Silver Dollar City in Branson, Missouri .

She has several albums to her credit and has written 2 small booklets. Her music is played on western music stations and in Belgium and Ireland.

Pat headlines as a singer/songwriter and/or a pianist. She has now partnered up with Bill May, a cowboy poet from Kearney, NE. and together they present their program of music and poetry at Cowboy Gatherings around the country. Both Pat and Bill continue to work alone as well.

Pat is married, has 3 children and 5 grandchildren. She and husband Wayne enjoy their quiet country community of Albion, Nebraska. In addition to her music career, Pat works at the local auction barn once a week, clerking for the cattle sales. She finds this atmosphere keeps her in touch with her heritage and supplies inspiration for the poetry and songs she writes.



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