Voodoo
Well-Known Member
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
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
