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Riding in from the east at sunup,
To check another herd,
My partner said he'd meet me,
Ever true to his word.
Enough feed in the pasture, Lord,
This is all we ask,
After living through the winter,
It shouldn't be much of a task.
This winter has been cold and hard,
Not fit for man nor beast,
But out here on the ranch, for us,
The chores just never ceased.
Twenty below during calving,
We'd build a fire in the pit,
Then take turns riding through the cows,
Everyone takes a shift,
Riding out from camp in two's,
To help with delivery,
Them calves never wait till morning,
They come just when they're ready.
They get enough leg under them,
To be branded in the spring,
We tag, number and vaccinate,
While they bawl and kick and sing.
The rest of the summer, we ride through,
And doctor whatever we can,
Try not to lose
Anymore than we can stand.
Come the fall, we ship them,
But only cut the steers,
The heifers and the cows stay on,
To buld the herd over the years.
And then the cycle starts again,
Our seasons are the best,
Our days start riding in from the East,
And we're heading out to the West.
I talk about riding west quite a bit. There's a bit of Cowboy Lore to account for this. Technically, we're all riding west. We start in the east when we're born and ride west our whole lives, until the sun sets on us. Generally, the old cowboys wanted to be buried facing west, and most of us bury our animals facing west when they die. This is something that not everyone knows, so it gives you a little enlightenment on some of my writings.
December, 2000
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