Cowboy Poetry and Music and More at the BAR-D Ranch

Scott Hill Bumgardner

Houston, Texas
About Scott Hill Bumgardner
Scott Hill Bumgardner's web site

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



A Time To Thaw

It hit bout 40 below
During the 80s big blow
That swept Wyoming’s Plains.
A lonesome old Texas hand,
 Who had come seeking land,
But found his greatest pains.

With head that was worn bare
 He had nary a prayer
To live a life of ease.
As the ice and snow did form
 Even worse than the norm,
He thought of the Gulf Coast Breeze.

Where thick angora wool chaps
 And brimless fuzzy furry caps
Would never be in need.
Where your cows and calves stay warm
 And oh how they would swarm
When you brought winter feed.

 So he said Lord take me back
On down that southbound track
That leads to my Texas home.
Where the sun gets mighty hot
And I promise that I’ll not,
Evermore northward roam.

2001 Scott Hill Bumgardner
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.


The Lady in Black

The boys had gathered round one day,
Griping about food and low pay.
When one gray haired grizzled old hand,
Caught the attention of the band.

All of you boys think that I'm old!
Listen to my story unfold.
Cowboys I'm the same age as y'all,
I only turned twenty last fall.

 I had set the wild ones for fame
And any old bronc I could tame.
Till I met the lady in black.
Then saddled her sleek muscled back.

 While seated upon this filly,
It suddenly turned plum chilly.
The bright old sun faded to gray.
Yep it was time for me to pray.

 Then that hoss began to quiver,
Turned into a wrenching  shiver.
Her wild mean eyes rolled back to red,
Sulfurous flames shot from her head.

 My resolve to ride just went soft.
But that hoss jumped we went aloft!
Looking down at clouds a forming,
From dust that gave me a warning.

 No this was no regular horse.
Could only be Satan's of course.
Sailing high as I snatched leather,
Gave me a view of the weather.

 This evil beast could really fly!
Kicking sparks as the world went by,
We'd  land in places mighty strange.
We spooked striped horses on a range,

 Saw black and white birds on some ice,
And yellow men plucking up rice.
With mighty prayers to end this ride,
I saw it was ego and pride.

 As she turned heading straight for hell,
I let loose with a Texas yell.
Down to a river dark and cold.
You see I've come out wise and old.

 Since this ride I've had this old bod,
But I'm saved by the grace of god.
And I hope you boys will repent!
So you don't make that hot descent. 

1990 Scott Hill Bumgardner
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.



Wobbly Leg

I had first seen Wobbly as a wild weaner.
Even then that young cow critter looked some meaner
Than the rest of those new bellering little bulls.
Who were just running, romping, and butting like fools.

He first caught my eye out there showing his powers,
Running and jumping out amongst the spring flowers.
The next time I saw him was later in the fall,
That young bull had grown up and stood handsome and tall.

But on closer inspection he would make no sire.
His left foreleg was wobbly, his eyes afire.
Wobbly began running, a break for the trees.
Old Jim tossed a lasso as easy as you please.

Looked like Wobbly was bound to become a steer.
Suddenly we heard a gasp of Jim's manly fear.
That critter's leg had give, putting him on the ground,
Jim's horse was too close without a chance to go round.

Both panicked beast and man went rolling through the brush
As that longhorn yearlin headed out in a rush.
The old Brazos bottoms with thicket dense and rough,
Made our quick search for Wobbly just to durn tough.

Over the years we had heard several strange stories
Of a bull sending boys to their greater glories.
As brushpopping punchers rode into the bramble,
Checking for beef that took a notion to ramble.

Some five years later we ran across him once more,
While down deep in the bottoms a hunting for boar.
We were busy dressing out a foul smelling hog,
When snorting and bellowing he charged from a fog.

That bull hooked my pony as I spun jumping free,
Then took to scratching, clawing my way up a tree.
My pard ran for his rifle to cancel this fight,
As that bloody beast whirled around plum full of spite.

His only shot rang loudly, the bullet sailed straight,
To end Wobbly, he had unloaded his freight.
That wild brush hider had caused us quite a tizzy.
But by the looks of our crop, he'd been real busy.

Wobbly's mark was on many a fine baby.
Looking at them I have to wonder, and maybe,
His wobbly leg was always causing him pain
And these calves of his will prove a lot more sane.

1992 Scott Hill Bumgardner All Rights Reserved
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.


Just Look Around

"There is no God today he's gone and dead."
These were the foolish words a young man said
At the end of a steamy summer day
While in the corral awaiting our pay.

Truly it was a discouraging word.
We couldn't believe what we had just heard.
Angry eyes lit many a sunburned face
As we thought of putting him in his place.

Top Hand said, you've been schooled but you can't see
What is obvious to the boys and me,
When we look out upon the setting sun
Or when watching a colt's first awkward run.

We all can see God wherever we look,
Even in the stories of our camp cook.
We see his mighty hand in a new calf's birth
And the majestic beauty of our Earth.

Surely we will suffer and all will die,
During bad times we will all ask God why.
But talk like yours could earn you a muzzle
Or get you tied till you learn this puzzle.

God created all this for a reason,
Surely as weather changes each season.
Take time to think about the times you've had
And son don't you just dwell upon the bad.

Think about your loving mother's sweet smile.
The fun of riding that first round up mile.
Think back and remember that simple joy
Of your Dad coming home with a new toy.

Remember that loud paint gelding you bought
And about how on that first ride he fought.
Think of each and every pleasure you took
From your training him right and by the book.

Please open your eyes son and don't be blind.
God is everywhere, he's easy to find.
When once you're snugly down under a mound,
You'll be mighty glad you just looked around.

1999, Scott Hill Bumgardner, All Rights Reserved
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.


Gathered Up

As we ride out over the hills so bright
With our hoof beats falling fast and light
Upward far beyond the valleys of strife
To the prairies of everlasting life.

Looking upon your furrowed brow and tears,
Wondering at how swiftly flew the years.
We'll ponder your tears my passing has wrought
And hope that you'll grasp this assuring thought.

Life is better in the arms of my pard,
He's carried me to a life that's not hard.
Wipe off your face there's no reason to fret
Cause I now ride the trail of no regret.

There's a herd of the boys bunking up here
We're riding the golden roads far from fear.
Our old pard Christ has opened wide the gate
With grace to drive away all pain and hate.

2002, Scott Hill Bumgardner, All Rights Reserved
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.



That First Rodeo

Just four years old in chaps and boots
As we used to say life was swell.
I remember it still today
Rodeo was alive and well.

Way down there on the front row
We saw every cowboy's wild ride.
Sitting next to the bucking chutes
We could see each quivering hide.

Then came a thunderous clanging
As giant bulls were loaded in
I heard them thrash and crash the pipes
As the brave young men stepped in.

One by one they took their places,
Upon these great and fiery beast.
Then as the gate was thrown open
The bulls would do more than their least

To toss these hat wearing men high
And stomp them down into the dirt.
Funny clowns were a scurrying
Keeping riders from getting hurt.

We sat up close and personal
With the sight, the sound, and the smell.
A brindle bull went high and right
Then savagely kicked our front rail.

What emotion and glee I felt
As mother gave terrified screams.
She sure did think we were goners,
But I still see it in my dreams.

2006, Scott Hill Bumgardner, All Rights Reserved
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.

Scott told us, "Pondering my western roots, I remembered the first rodeo I attended when I was two or so. The excitement, that bull, and my mother's fear were great. Here it is 50 years later and the memory is still vivid."  


2006, Scott Hill Bumgardner





Read Saddle Knowledge (Only A Cowboy Knows), by Scott Bumgardner and Rod Nichols

from the Academy of Western Artists 1st Annual Cowboy Poetry/Songwriting Team Roping Challenge



About Scott Hill Bumgardner

On Scott's "Texas Legacies" web site he says "I began writing cowboy type poetry and stories in 1990 after one of my horses fell on me, breaking my pelvis. While I was recuperating, I began writing to keep from going stir crazy. Over the years, I have written many poems but have settled on about a dozen of the best to use in my programs. While I have retired from the would-be cowboy life, I am very active in the work to keep this part of our history from being forgotten. Texas history has been my passion for many years."

For more of his poetry and for the interesting story of his fourth great grandfather, who wrote the first book of epic Texas poetry back in 1838, visit his Texas Legacies site.


Texas Legacies


 Texas Legacies consist of 17 tracks of stories and original poetry about Texas and the cowboy.  Beginning with the Texas Revolution and marching into the cowboy era, this album celebrates our Texas legacies.  Listen to this CD to remember the battle for the Alamo and the winning of Texas independence at San Jacinto.  Enjoy the stories and verse of bad cattle, bad horses, and reflect on the wonders of God's creations.   

Alamo, by Hugh Kerr 1838 from "A Poetical Description Of Texas"
Yankee Doodle, by Hugh Kerr 1835
Sunset, by Joseph William Hill 1943

All other poems, written and performed by Scott Hill Bumgardner.

Guitar-Kelly Lancaster
Recorded by- Karl Caillouet of Heights Sound Studio
Cover Art - "Escapee" 2001 Wanda Johnson
Scott's Photo -Kerry Beyer

 1. Welcome, Kerr's "Alamo" 1:21
 2. Diablos Tejanos 1:31
 3. Kerr's "Yankee Doodle" 2:38
 4. Houston's Courage 2:11
 5. The Cowboy Era 1:15
 6. Wobbly Leg 2:25
 7. Shotgun 2:32
 8. Joe Mumme 2:13
 9. Jingle Bob 1:12
10. Twinkle 1:31
11. Demo 3:28
12. Wheeler Dealer 1:30
13. Lady in Black 3:14
14. Time to Thaw 1:50
15. Joe Hill's-"Sunset" 2:45
16. Just Look Around 3:00
17. Spurs on the Wall 1:28

Available through for $15, tax and shipping included.   


The Funky Bunkie Gators (CD)
Fun Louisiana Tales

These are imaginative and often preposterous tales that are fun for kids or adults.  Includes 9 stories beginning with Scott's move to Louisiana, the Funky Bunkie Gator Fest,  and introducing Snappy The Amazing Pet Gator with several of his and Scott's adventures.


Transplanted to Louisiana
Bunkie Friends
Funky Bunky Gator Fest
Snappy Competes
Snappy's Political Season
Snappy Goes Home
Snappy's Poem

Available through, where there are sound clips, for $15, tax and shipping included.  To order by mail, send a check or money order to:

Scott H. Bumgardner
P.O. Box 710770
Houston, Texas 77271-0770



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