RON WRIGHT
Southeastern Utah
About Ron Wright
He was born a bastard colt and looked to be a dud
His dam she was a thoroughbred, the sire a big draft stud
That Shire he had escaped one day and was out a prowlin' round.
Ol' Smith he weren't too happy when together they was found.
Almost another year went by when "Hawk" he hit the ground
Some boys took one look at him and said "Just put him down."
Big head, pig eyes and four white socks, he wasn't much to see
But there was one a standin there that said "Just leave him be."
He took that big black ugly colt and put it with his own
To see just what would come of it and he could've hardly known
That the day would come that big black horse would save his very life
But before that would come to pass, there would be some years of strife.
Ol' Hawk he was a knucklehead and lacked some of his brains
He didn't like nobody much and he played some damn rough games
One by one they hit the dirt, the boys who tried to ride
He'd never amount to nuthin' much, for he'd been well tried.
Then one day young Bob climbed on and simply wouldn't quit
On he'd climb then off he'd go when Pig-eye had a fit
For a good long time the fight went on 'till they found some understanding
He'd let young Bob stay on a while, if he just weren't too demanding.
Hell for stout but short on wits, he was never one to trust
Now and then he'd pitch a fit and chuck Bob in the dust
Neither one of them would quit so I guess it turned out fair
For years to come they'd keep it up and it cost 'em both some hair.
Bob and Pops was movin cows, away on "out below"
They'd rode some ways, 'bout half a day when Pop's ticker tried to go
Bob got him down and shaded up and asked him, "Where's your pills?"
Pop said "I left em back at camp, what Doc gimme for my ills."
Bob hit the saddle on the run and yelled "I'll hurry back."
That big black horse was at a run the second he broke tracks
Twelve miles he ran to camp and back and never broke his stride
Through rocks an brush, off drops, up hills, it was one damn fine ride.
Hawk just knew he had to shine, he'd make it like no other
The stride he took when they lit out showed the bloodlines of his mother
But how he held that pace so long, now that's a different part
For a big black ugly misfit horse, that knucklehead had heart.
There wasn't any games that day and not a single balk
No horse had run so hard and far as Bob did on ol' Hawk
They made that ride to camp and back and brought ol' Pop his pills
And it just might be the only time when those two took no spills.
© 2003, Ron Wright
About Ron Wright:
I was raised in a small town in southeastern Utah, where I still live. "Hawk" is a true story that took place in the desert east of here, "Out below."
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