Cedar Hill, Texas
About Tex Low
Born to M'lady, a show mare of class,
revealing her secret affair with an ass.
A moonlight fence-jumper his old man was known.
Hand-pickin' his women; he'd none of his own.
That first morning was chilly, in more ways than one,
but he warmed up to life, with some help from the sun.
The corral gate swung open, a creak of the hasp,
and over the fence boards, "Oh my God!" came the gasp
of Joe Bob Delaney, on whose ranch were raised
GRAND CHAMPIONS, of course. He was way past amazed!
His response, 'scuse me ladies, please cover your ears.
I don't mind to tell you, he 'bout came to tears.
"If this a joke, it ain't so damn funny!
A whole year's been wasted--the time and the money
spent to get this mare bred to that top racin' stud,
and all I can show is this ugly-ass dud!
His ears are the worst part--so hairy and long..."
At that moment the little guy broke into song.
His momma, she bolted, then wheeled with a snort.
Only six strands of barb wire jerked her up short.
"We'll keep him 'til weanin', then straight to the sale.
No use to train him--they're stubborn as hell!"
He grew up all lanky, not even a name.
They paid him no mind, as they went and they came.
The other colts were handled--taught to tie and and to lead,
how to load in a trailer; were called in to feed.
And he often puzzled, as he dozed in the sun,
why nobody cared. Was it something he'd done?
The truck rumbled up, the gate opened wide.
He dashed for the opening; too late, he's inside!
No momma to nurse him, no hay for a sprawl,
no horse colts to play with, no cattle to bawl.
The auctioneer mumbled; the whip reports loud.
He blinked from the lights. He spooked at the crowd.
The gavel fell heavy. His new owner spoke.
"This youngster's got promise. He ain't just a joke!
Y'all just need some schoolin' 'bout mules and their kin.
I raise 'em and train 'em. That's the business I'm in.
The way that I see it, this young fella's set.
Th' best of both worlds--as good as it gets.
It just takes the knowin' of how to proceed...
Ya gotta go easy, with trainin' and feed.
A mule ain't no horse with long ears. Hear me out!
Their minds ain't th' same--don't respond to a clout.
Like they're from a strange planet--far, far away.
Mule's gotta respect ya...to do what you say.
They're smarter'n horses. They won't get you hurt,
if you can stick with 'em--and don't use a quirt.
So ease 'em 'round proper with patience and time.
They'll come to your callin'--no halter or line.
Yep, this one's a keeper! I'll take him with me,
and call him Sir Prize. And he just might be!"
© 2002, Tex Low
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
About Tex Low:
I have raised horses and mules for 40+ years, compete in endurance riding on my Arabian mule, and give riding lessons to special needs children on my retired Arabian endurance mare and my mule.
For five years I was a staff writer for a nationally published mule magazine, The Saddle Mule News.
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