My battered bones and bruises said my "break" was over due.
The echo in my wallet said that "break" was needed too.
A cowboy's life is up and down...more beans than there is beef,
so I hoped today would be the day I turned over a new leaf.
I'd just drifted into Cheyenne for the "Frontier Days" stampede.
Typical cowpoke...sore and broke...and just as "sore" in need!
I told the Rodeo Officials, "Man, I sure could use a break!"
Then with my last buck, I bet on luck and the ride I hoped to make.
I'd show that hoss just who was boss...a ride as smooth as honey.
A count of eight out of the gate should put me in the money.
I'd wear my lucky feather on my weathered Stetson brim.
I'd rig him right...cinched down tight...and put the spurs to him.
I'd spur that brute out of the chute with one hand held up high
as if to show that whole rodeo I was reachin' for the sky.
I'd put him through his paces and take all he had to show me.
I'd put away "Top Rider" pay and put him away wet and foamy.
So I made my draw and the name I saw seemed like a wish come true.
The ride I'd make would be a piece of cake with lots of frosting too,
'cause my horse's name sounded nice and tame. I felt victory in my bones.
I'd end this ride with cheers and pride instead of moans and groans.
But I lost morale beside the corral when I saw that devil beast.
His eyes were glazed and he seemed half-crazed like a witch's spell released.
Y'see, the horse I drew was midnight-black...black as the devil's heart,
and it was plain to see he hated me right from the very start.
He was bucking when they roped him and tied him to the stall.
He sparred on end when he was penned like a boxer in a brawl.
Two times two riders passed our turn up when he wouldn't settle down.
I was feelin' queasy and mighty uneasy when that horse turned upside down.
When I finally got astride him, I said, "Why shucks, he's just a pup!"
As I nodded my head, the gate man said, "Son, he's just been warmin' up!"
That day I learned a lesson that I should have known all along...
when you're stuck on the back of that devil black, eternity is eight seconds long!
I heard someone say, "He'll ride again some day...when his therapy is complete.
But his do-see-do won't be rodeo if he has any desire to eat!"
I heard that wise-crack about three years back, and the rodeo still is my life.
I ride with the strain and constant back pain that stabs me almost like a knife.
My friends criticize me and are quick to advise me I'd be smart if I would resign,
but I handle the pace strapped up in a brace reinforcing my fractured spine.
This ain't what I planned, so don't misunderstand. I'm not trying to be some kind of he-man.
I'm just here to suggest how to make your ride best if you get on the back of that demon.
He's out for the kill with a feverish thrill of his own volition and and free will.
Just mark my word! No horse ever spurred will treat you as badly as he will!
Don't be a damned fool who lets a name over rule your logic or your common senses.
Be survival inclined! Keep that foremost in mind, or you'll spend your last days riding fences.
Just be advised, and don't be surprised if I'm the pick-up man riding beside you.
You see, I've made up my mind, unless I go blind, I'll see that horse quit before I do.
Learn a lesson from me! It's so easy to see! Take my advice and don't make my mistake!
You live in a dream thinkin' there's sugar and cream in a black horse some fool named..."COFFEE BREAK"!
Dan Blair is a life-long wildlife/western artist and published poet/author. He is former associate editor of international wildlife art magazine; Show Manager for 5th Annual World Wildlife Art Festival; and Winner of over 238 awards including no less than 17 Best Of Show honors for excellence in Wildlife/Western Art. His Cowboy Poetry can be seen and read at CowboyPoetry.com and in their award-winning anthology of Cowboy Poetry called THE BIG ROUNDUP.
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