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Surprise, Arizona
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Featured in "The Big Roundup," an anthology of the best of



Tell Me 'Bout the Good Ole Days

His eyes were bright and shiny, his face was filled with glee.
Tell me bout the good ole  days Grandpa,
As he climbed up on my knee.

Tell me bout the ghost rider's and how they filled the sky.
And bout the wild mustang and how that colt could fly.

Tell me bout the Eagles and their silent golden flights.
And bout the mountain lions and wolves on moonlit nights.

Tell me bout the campfires and how they warm the cold.
And bout the forty 'niners and how they found the gold.

Tell me bout the railroads coming round the bend.
And bout those lonely hearts and the letters that they send.

Tell me bout the mountains and how they reach the sky.
And bout the horse gone lame, as you watched a cowboy cry.

Tell me bout the purple sage, the rivers and streams.
And bout the pioneer wives coming west to help fulfill the dreams.

Tell me bout the rattlesnakes and how they like to bite.
And bout ol Rusty's courage, and how he'll stand'n fight.

Tell me bout the ranchers and how they help their friends.
And bout the Bronco Twister, and how he's to tough to bend.

Don't forget the western sky and how it's always blue.
And bout the Cowboys hearts, and how they're always true.

Well, I told all these stories to this little sleepy head.
And when his eyes were closed real tight, I tucked him in his bed.

I didn't tell him bout the Indians, and how The Government broke it's word.
What happened to the ranges, and all those buffalo herds.

I didn't tell him bout the outlaws and how they're rarely caught.
The lawyers with their fancy pens, and what their laws have wrought.

I didn't tell him bout the valley's and how they're all paved over,
What happened to the grazing land, the flowers, and the clover.

I told him how the west was won, but I didn't mention cost.
I just wonder who the winners are...if it's the cowboys that we lost.

© 1996, R.L. Brinegar
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.



On a stage bound for Reno sat a Harvard graduate, beside him a cowboy of bronco riding fame.
Said the graduate to the cowboy as he offered this little game.
"If you ask me a question and I git the answer wrong."
I pay you a dollar bill and we do this all night long.

"But if I ask you a question and you don't answer right.
You just pay me fifty cents and we do this through the night."
Well odds of two to one were better than the bronco riding biz.
If all he had to do was sit here and face this Harvard graduate's quiz.

The graduate sat there cocky like, the cowboy all alert.
The graduate felt his education would protect his fancy shirt.
Sez the cowboy, "What has feathers 'n horns, can't be rode or fenced 'n
crowhops just for thrills?"
"Feathers 'n horns?" the graduate scratched his head, said he didn't know,
"Here's your dollar bill."

T'was the graduate's turn to question as he said, "Oh by the way."
The cowboys eyes were twinkling, he knew exactly what to say.
"What critter you describing with feathers 'n horns that can't be ridden or fenced?"
The cowboy said, "Dammed if I know, here's your fifty cents."

© 1996, R.L. Brinegar
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.


Sixteen Dollar Bill

Ol counterfeit Bill was an ornery cuss, but he weren't so very smart.

He shot a banker plum through the foot while aiming at his heart.

The judge decreed sixteen years, and throw'd the key away.

So sixteen years of busting rocks it'd be, for his crime he'd hafta pay.

Ol Bill laid low a doing time, and looked forward to his release.

He'd fashioned a set of counterfeit plates in prison and was all setup to fleece.

So after sixteen summers of busting rocks and sixteen long hard winters.

He took his counterfeit plates on his parole, and headed straight out for the printer.

There he sat with a pile of money that'd buy most kind of thrills.

But like I said he weren't so smart, it was a stack of sixteen dollar bills.

Ol Bill knowed if he were caught, he'd be hunted down for the bounty.

He'd hafta go someplace uncivilized, like Nevada's story county.

So he found this bar where spirits flowed to glasses by the gallon.

It was the Sundance saloon on main street, bout 50 miles west of Fallon.

He plunked this sixteen dollar bill on the bar, in this place he found remote.

If he could get this one past the bartender, he had lot's more ‘neath his coat.

"I'll bet you've never seen a city fella like me with spending money out here on the range".

The bartender handed back two eight dollar bills and replied, "Guess not here's your change".

© 1996, R.L. Brinegar
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.


A lady pauses briefly
As her eyes well up with tears
For she thinks she's lost her beauty
To the hardships and the years

She remembers all the good times
When she was just a girl
And kept her cowboy smiling
With her laughing eyes and curls.

Now her face is showing wrinkles
And her hair is turning gray
She Wonders where that young girl went
She was here just yesterday

Then her cowboy steps beside her
Puts his arms around her waist
Turns her ever gently
Brushes teardrops from her face

There's something I must tell you
As I've held you through the years
Let me tell you what I see
For I will be your mirror

I can see the blue skies
Where other skies are gray
And I see children laughing
In the meadows where they play

I can see the Cattle Grazing
Just below the rise
And I can see a rainbow
From the twinkle in your eyes

I can see the Sweet grass
Swaying gently in the breeze
And I can see the sunrise
Through the golden Aspen trees.

I can see your heartbeat
Where Eagles cast their spell
And I can see your sweet Love
As deep as any well.

So when you stop to ponder
On reflections you hold dear
Just remember Darling
I will be your mirror

© 2000 R.L Brinegar
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.

This poem is also included in our Cowboy Love Poetry section.


When You Need a Friend

He was just a little boy 
Barely old enough to tie his shoe
He was outside playing 
Like little boys tend to do

Out behind the bunkhouse   
An old cowboy sat beneath the tree 
So he wandered over like little boys do
To see what he could see.

He knew nothing of life’s travails
He’d only lived in this one place
When he walked over to the old cowboy
He could see teardrops on his face

The old man sat there lonesome
For his wife had passed away
The little boy felt his sorrow  
And wondered what he should say

Then he found the answer
Like his Daddy’s stories before his nap
He walked over to the old cowboy 
And crawled up in his lap

His Mother asked him later
What he said to the elderly gent
For she watched over her little boy
And the places that he went

The little boy just beamed a smile 
And quiet came his reply
“I didn’t say anything,” he said
 “I just helped him Cry.”

© 2001 R. L Ron  Brinegar
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.


Where the Angels Tipped their Wings

The Sunset paints the mountains
Where the Longhorn cattle roam
Remember all the cowboys
From here to San Antone

To the boys like Tom McGuiness
Two daughters and a wife
He was four and twenty
When the cattle took his life

And the Sunset paints the mountains
Hear those lonesome cowboys sing
When the Chisum trail crossed over
The Angels tipped their wings

And the boys like Tom McGuiness
Where the longhorn cattle roam
They'll not see their loved ones
When the trail is heading home

And the Sunset paints the mountains
Hear those lonesome cowboys sing
When the Chisum trail crossed over
The Angels tipped their wings

And the boys like Tom McGuiness
When they hear the master call
They'll not see their loved ones
When the works all done this fall

And the sunset paints the mountains
Hear those lonesome cowboys sing
The shadows hide the memories
Where the Angels Tipped their wings

© 2001, R. L. Brinegar 
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.

(Ron adds that this poem can be sung to a melody like "Annie Laurie.")


Two Wolves

When I was just a little boy
Of all the cowboy stories
I'll always remember Grandpa's
Round the campfire's glory

The light would dance its amber glow
As the sun was going down
The moon on high in the August sky
By the campfire miles from town.

The tales he told bout the old days
And stories of the west
Made us laugh and cry with wonder
At the ones he told the best

But I'll never forget this one
I know this story's true
"Two Wolves" he called it proudly
I'll share this tale with you

His voice was calm and quiet,
Like a whisper in the wind
He told of Wolves in the mountains
And Wolves we had within

He said there's two Wolves inside of him
 Both fighting hard to win
One Wolf is mean and evil
 Full of hate'n greed, and sin

The other wolf is good, and fights for peace,
Happiness, friendship, kindness, and love
All the things we hold dear
With guidance from above

He said two wolves are in all of us
That includes both you and me
Each Wolf fighting for their cause
It's not so hard to see

Well, I thought about his story
Then with a big Ol' Grin
I looked at Grandpa straight away
And ask which one will win?

He paused for just a moment
 His advice I'll always heed
He said the answer's simple son
It's the one you feed

© 2003, R. L. Brinegar 
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.


Read Ron Brinegar's Letter to Santa, posted with other Holiday 2002 poems.



About Ron Brinegar:

Ron Brinegar has performed his poetry at events in and around the west for many years, he's been a requested performer in many of Nevada's poetry events (Tahoe, Reno, Elko, Carson City, Virginia City) as well as performing at the famous Coeur d' Alene Idaho resort and now on to the ranges of Wyoming.  For more about Ron visit his his site at

Where Angels Tipped Their Wings

Ron Brinegar's e-book, Where Angels Tipped Their Wings, is available on CD. Ron describes it as "a new version of my existing traditional book...a book you read by loading the contents of the folder on your computer's hard drive." It contains poems, pictures, songs, links to Cowboy web sites and more.

The electronic book is available for $15 postpaid from:

Desert Spur/Ron Brinegar
17109 N. Firestone Lane
Surprise, AZ 85374


Where Angels Tipped Their Wings, is also available as an "e-book." Ron writes: "This book uses new technology developed by Flip-Viewer. The book contains Poems, Pictures, and Western Drawings by Artist and friend Ron Scofield.  Ron and Marie are host to the Red Mule Ranch show in Fiddletown,California. Best Of all  this book includes Music samplers by some of my friends I've met along the trail from Spokane to Arizona. You'll hear a Nevada friend, Richard Elloyan sing a song he wrote, "The Great Basin Waltz," and my old friend John Tyson of Nevada singing "Mustang Moon" plus a selection from the Old West Trio singing a song they wrote called "Forgotten Trails."  It's just like sitting round the campfire after a days works and listening to the stories, poems and music.

The book downloads directly to your computer in about 5 minutes, You then can read it on your computer, listen to the songs, or print out the pages as you wish. The cost is $9.95 and you pay online via World Pay, a secure credit card site.  Read all about it and order here at the DigitalFlip Store.



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