Cute horse poem

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Well-Known Member
Feb 22, 2004
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Cedar City, Ut
I've had this poem in my memory so long that I can't even remember who wrote it, but I've always thought it was cute. And the moral isn't too bad either, although I think this is how horse traders get a bad name.

ML if you think belongs on the back porch feel free to move it I just wasn't sure since it was kinda horse related.

[SIZE=14pt] I traded for a horse one time he wouldn't take no beauty prize[/SIZE]

This great big long geared blue roan gelding, not too bad for weight and size

I had to make some tough old circles and the trader guaranteed

He'd show me lots of country and not need too much rest or feed

He said, now this here ain't no kids horse, but he'll pack you up the crick

He'll hump up on occassion and he has been known to kick

I wouldn't trade him to just anyone without feeling some remorse

But if you're sure enough a cowboy mister, he's your kind of horse

I stepped on that horse next morning, he commenced to buck and bawl

That trader hadn't lied none, but he hadn't told it all

'Cause we shore tore up the country where he throwed that equine fit

And I was almost out of handhold by the time he finally quit

Well that just sort of set the pattern, things just never seemed to change

Though I showed him lots of country, every corner of the range

But every time I rode that begger he kept me setting tight

'Cause I knew I'd make at least three bronc rides before he packed me home at night

Which would have been ok on most horses that I've knowed

But this 'ole pony had my number, I just barely got him rode

And the thing that really spooked me and put a damper on my pride

He was learning how to buck faster than I was learning how to ride

I rode into camp one evening, it was getting kind of late

I see this grey in the corral, and there's this saddle by the gate

Well, I looked this grey horse over and I sure liked what I seen

Then this kid showed up around the barn, he must have been about sixteen

He said he lamed his horse that morning coming off of granite grade

And asked if I had something I'd maybe like to trade

He said he didn't have no time to stop and rest and let him heal

And since that beggars can't be choosers he'd make most any kind of deal

Now when you're trading horses almost anything is fair

So I traded him that blue roan for his grey horse then and there

Then my concience got to hurting when I thought about what I did

To trade a fly blowed dink like that off to some little wet nosed kid

So next morning after breakfast I tells him listen lad

If you want to know the truth that trade you made last night was bad

That blue roan is a tough one, bad as any you will see

He'll strike ya, kick ya, stampede, he's a sorry SOB

Now there's two or three old horses out there in the saddle bunch

They ain't got too much going for them, but I kinda got a huch

They'll get you where you're going if you just don't crowd them none

But d@*% I'd hate to see you try to ride that blue roan begger son

He said last night I told you I'd make most any kind of trade

And I appreciate you telling me what a bad mistake I made

But my old daddy told me when you're trading, no matter how you feel

Even if you take a whipping, why a deal is still a deal

That horse you say has lots of travel and he ain't too bad for speed

Well sir, I'm kind of in a tight one, that's exactly what I need

I traded for him fair and square and d@*% his blue roan hide

When I pull out of here this morning that's the horse I'm gonna ride

I watched him cinching up his saddle, then he pulled his hat way down

And stepped up in the riggin' like he was headed straight for town

Stuck both spurs up in the shoulders, got the blue roan hair a flyin'

Tipped his head straight back and screamed just like a wounded mountain lion

Now I've heard stories of the bucking horse ballet

I've heard poetry in motion, but the ride I saw that day

Just plumb defied description, though I can still see it plain

Like it happened in slow motion, like it was branded on my brain

I don't suppose I could explain it, even if I tried

The only thing that I could say is by saints that kid could ride

He just set there plumb relaxed like he was laying home in bed

And for every jump that pony took that kid was half a jump ahead

When it all was over I figured I could learn a few things still

I said son I'm awful sorry, I misjudged your riding skill

He said schucks that's OK mister as he started on his way

But if you think this horse can buck, don't put your saddle on that grey