The devil's down in Cheyenne.
He's red-eyes, raw and mean;
with a whip unreal, two swords of steel,
and the wrath of hell between!

I've ridden bulls form Lethbridge
all the way to San Antone;
but that black black-hearted devil's
in a class all of his own.

He's swallowed up a cyclone.
It's in his belly still
There's Just one thought that devil's got;
and that one's shoutin' "KILL."

The devil's down in Cheyenne
and though I rode him well,
I wasn't any match for
two thousand pounds from hell.

He left me down in Cheyenne
in a crimson pool a' gore
The devil's still in Cheyenne --
but I don't ride bulls no more.

© Bette Wolf Duncan

Bette Wolf Duncan is a Montana Cowgirl Poet. This poem is from her book "Russell Country. Western Cowboy Poetry." That book and many other Cowboy Poetry books are published by Hancock House Publishers, 1431 Harrison Avenue, Blaine, Washington 98230. Her poetry is also available on cowboypoetry.com.

This poem is in memory of Lane Frost who was killed in 1989. His life was also the subject of the film, "8 Seconds."

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