Ol’ Cowboys never die

An ol’ cowboys bones may get brittle
But the heart of his soul is fit as a fiddle
Tak’in his cues from the land he rides
Never forgetting his past or sacrificing his pride

It’s always been a mystery to me why folks want to look ahead
I’m still getting over the times I should’n been dead
Wonder’in if things would have been different had this cowboy had taken another turn
That Part of another life that….hell… I’ll never learn

Time’s I regret that I could have chosen other battles
But I chose the life of horses and cattle
The work is hard and the pay is steady
It may seem small and to some quite petty.

I think I’ve lived my life as the Good Lord thought I should…
Taking nothing from another man he didn’t know I would
I didn’t choose this way of life to get rich
This old cowboy is storing up those riches where they really matter

Well….sitting here talking ain’t getting the work done
With winter coming on…I got a heap to do
That first cold breeze can put a chap on your face..so I just
Turn to the south and keep a slow steady pace

Will Rogers once said that young is beautiful but old is comfortable
Its wise old men that set the tone for future cowboys
So, keep your cinch tight and your eyes on the stars
And never stop believing that you’ve come to far.

If I’m ever gonna get to my Lonesome Dove
You just got to keep reach’in for the sky and the one’s we love
Cause In each of our lives we’re all giv’in a gift
You just gotta know it’s there when staring you in the face

My buddy ..Ol Dish may have thrown his last rope
But the lessons in this poem gotta give’em some hope
So keep your powder dry Dish and your shoulders back
Cause this ol’ cowboys fixin to tighten the loop

~Pete Sughers

TOOLS OF A HAND
HIS HANDS WORE WEATHERED LEATHER…..THAT COULD BE ANY MAN’S HAND I TOLD MYSELF…BUT
THOSE HANDS WORE A DIFFERENT GLOVE…OH I DON’T PRETEND TO BE AN EXPERT IN HANDS….HANDS
GET OLD AND COULD BE JUST AGE TAKIN HOLD…BUT IT WAS THE CREASES THAT OFFERED UP A
GLIMPSE
OF THIS MANS DUSTY RIDE….DEEP SCRATCHES, THE SCALY YET SMOOTH KNUCKLES, LONG NARROW ANGLES AND
CRISSCROSSES OF A SCENERY HIDDEN BEHIND A HARD LIFE REVEALED…..BUT WELL SPENT I
SUSPECT….

THERE IS
SYMETRY ABOUT A TALL HAND TALE….ON A SHORT MAN…., MAYBE UNTOLD. WE DON’T ALWAYS
KNOW HOW OUR LIFE BLANKET WILL
UNFOLD, BUT WE DO KNOW…IT WILL UNFOLD…ONLY TO FOLD.

DISH AND I COWBOYED TOGETHER FOR
MANY YEARS AT THE BASE OF POPANOE RIDGE IN NORTHERN COLEMAN COUNTY AND HIS HANDS
PAINTED A MOSIAC OF A TIME THAT STRETCHED FROM THE GREAT PLAINES OF TEXAS TO THE ARIZONA
DESERT COWBOYING FOR WAGES. OL RIP JONES WAS A STRAWBOSS IN OUR OUTFIT ONCE TOLD
DISH TO “WORK MORE ON THE AESTHETICS OF THE RANCH BECAUSE IT’S NOT ALWAYS ABOUT THE
LIVESTOCK”…DISH LOOKED AT RIP AND SAID…”RIP…IF YOU’LL SHOW ME WHAT AN AESTHETIC
LOOKS LIKE, I’LL DAMN SURE ROPE IT AND BRING IT TO YA”….I NEVER FIGURED DISH FOR A
WORDSMITH SCHOLAR OF INTELLECT, BUT RIP AND I GOT A RIB TICKLER OUT OF THAT ONE.

DISH WAS WELL INTO HIS SEVENTIES. AT 5’7”, HE WAS NO CLARK GABLE, BUT CLARK GABLE WAS NO
DISH BOGG. THE ONLY THING STARCHED ON DISH WAS HIS HATBAND. A SELFPROCLAIMED
PHILOSOPHER AND IF YOU WERE
UNFORTUNATE ENOUGH TO GET STUCK WITH HIM IN AN ALLEYWAY OR A
SET OF PENS THROWING CALVES, HE HAD A STORY FOR JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING, ESPECIALLY THE LIFE
AND TIMES OF HIS
RIGHT HAND. HIS INDEX FINGER WAS POINTING SOUTH WHEN HE WAS POINTING WEST. HIS MIDDLE
KNUCKLE WAS TWISTED FROM A FENCE POST DRIVER THAT SLIPPED OFF IT’S MARK. HIS THUMB, I
RECKON, WAS PRAIRIE BAIT FROM A DALLIE GONE WRONG. HIS LITTLE FINGER DIDN’T GET THE MEMO
TO MOVE WHEN CLIMBING OFF A SPRING LOADED GRAIN DRILL COVER CLOSING

NO….A QUICK GAME OF CHUCK A LUCK OR FUZZY GUZZY WOULD LEAVE YA SCRATCHING YOUR HEAD
WONDERING HOW THIS OL’ BOY MADE IT THIS FAR.

~PETE SUGHERS

My little Philly’s birthday: October 24, 2007

Sunrise came mighty early this morning
A smell of fall is certainly in the October air
Stuck another mesquite log on those fester’in coals
Sure shaves the goosebumps off a fellas skin

Something about the smell of coffee
A good fire, and a little quiet peace with the good book before all hell breaks loose
Watching those flames danc’in back and forth
Can sure soften even an old crusty Cowboys soul

I’m not here to talk about coffee or fires or cowboys.
In fact, be’in an old cowman
I was reminded of an ol’boy who ask me what I look for in an ol’ horse
I told him I never gave it much thought until now,
Just whatever I was rid’in was good enough for me long as she was sure footed

As I pondered that thought in my head later that evening
I got to think’in about the perfect little Philly
Well, this cain’t be no ordinary Philly,
It’s got to be a special little Philly, somethin I’m mighty fond of
Matter of fact, I think you all will like her to

She ain’t saddle broke, but she is green broke
She’s kinda temperamental if you don’t keep her tonails trimmed
I wouldn’t say she’s young, but she ain’t that old neither
The years have been kind to her, but she’s got a little swayback

At a walk, she’s pretty even tempered and good company
At a trot, she’ll go all day and never complain bout that bit
At a gallop, she’s as smooth as a Billy Cook oil handrubbed saddle

If I ride her to hard, she’ll get worked up in a lather
If I don’t pay attention to her, she’s liable to sleep all day
She’ll fight like a grizzley protecting her own
But She’s also as gentle as a new born baby calf

Grab onto that mane and she will give you the ride of your life
Insult her pride and she’ll buck like a mule
It ain’t the curb bit she responds best to, but the hackamore
When’s she had enough, she’ll let you know

Sometimes we don’t know what trail we will ride,
So you better check your gear for the long haul, or step aside
I’m pretty fond of this ol’ filly
She’s stood by my side, though I’ve been known to get silly

You see, it’s not easy to find a good horse
The young ones are full of piss and vinegar,
But the seasoned ones have wisdom and character

Today is my little philly’s birthday.
I believe she turns 50, but in horse years, she’s still 18.
I think I’ll hang on to her
Hell, at my age, you cain’t afford to train a new one.

If the good Lord told me today was my dirt-nap day
He can rest assured that I feed and brushed that Philly everyday.
It’s like ol’ Ball said; “you have to stroke it like a fine wine”
So, Happy Birthday ol’ Gal, I look forward to the next ride.

~Pete Sughers

Bossman says all the cows ain’t here
Got a bad hip….gotta be near..
Count’em again staffin the pens coral
Go find that ol sull, ol buddy, ol pal.

Well I saddled my mare put a dip in my lip
Looked in my saddlebags for a quick little nip
When I find that bovine she’ll be sorry she hid
As I straddle to ride just like I always did

I rode out a thinkin I hope I come back
As I turned to my left I heard a loud crack
Think’in for sure I’d probably been had
Was my dear ol compadre….my bad..

Brushpoppin thru mesquite trees and thorns
Scouring high and low looking for horns
Sunbaked blisterin down hot as a griddle…
This ain’t no time to pull out the fiddle

Ridin hard and fast over 2000 plus
Sweltin, sweatin, spittin and needin to cuss
A high headed heifer, a cow, a bull
I’ll drag home my momma to make the count full

Well we found that ol sull just a buried down
Sucked up tighter than a cinched up gown
I hollered, I hooted, a rancorous uptown
Old black cow rolled her eyes as if to say…good luck boys

Brush was thicker than a cocoburr blanket
Yep…top 5 challenge if I had to rank it
Climbed out of my kack just a hoofing by foot
Gonna pry that beast out if’in I have to use my teeth

Scratching and clawing thru vines and pears
“on your feet I cried or I’ll drag you by your hair”
The ground broke loose as she moved the earth
A bellerin and a snortin like she was givin birth

A kissin cousin I was, my heart went a racin
I didn’t like the prospects of what I was facing
Getting out of that thicket was a cowboys dream
In a storm like that, you tend to find the seam

We pushed that ol cow up into a bossmans smile
“where’d ya get them scratches” like I was on trial
“never felt a thing” I responded in kind
For that ol cow…I’z lucky to find

~Pete Sughers

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