"How
cold does it get here in Wyoming?" I asked
An rugged ol' cowboy in Cody to tell. "Well,
sir," he said, " it gets so cold that folks
Go to church in winter just to hear about hell."
"Now, I reckon I can tell this little secret,
Without causing too much alarm:
Wyoming cowboys wear sandpaper underwear,
So the friction will keep us warm.
"Of course, Wyoming winters ain't all bad,
'Cause we aren't exactly forever cursed.
Why, Bessie, our beloved old milk cow,
Gives ice cream right up to June first.
"We light July 4th fireworks with blowtorches,
Cause the lighted matches always freeze up.
And one day I found my cow dog froze solid
To the front tire of my pickup truck.
"Why, just last winter I saw two cottontails
Pushing a jack rabbit to get him going.
And it was way after the first of August
Before it finally stopped snowing.
"The winter in late 1996 was a rough one,
And I'm proud to say it is long gone.
Why, one day the temperature dropped so fast
It bent the nail the thermometer hung on.
"That winter was absolutely awful I'd admit,
One of the coldest ever to be found.
One day I went out to the barn at high noon
And my shadow froze to the snowy ground.
"It was so dadblamed cold at the ranch
That our foreman's red pickup turned blue.
And our prize bull's baseball-sized testicles
Shrunk down to the size of BB's, too.
"It was so blasted cold that our big ol' rooster
Had four cockadoodledoos frozen in his beak.
And a cowboy out on the windy, frigid range
Took his life in his hands to take a leak.
"Now, if you ever cowboy in Wyoming in winter,
Please accept this advice without any sass: "Be mighty careful where you drop your drawers,
Or you'll sure 'nuff freeze your....self."
Stan Paregien was born in Oklahoma in 1941. He grew up on a section of the famous Newhall
Ranch that is located about 75 miles north of Los Angeles. That's where
he learned to rope and ride and to love the cowboy way of life.
He has been a member of Western Writers of America (WWA) since 1984, and
served for four years as the historian and publicist of that group of
professional writers who write about and promote the Old West. He is
author of a book on cowboy poet S. Omar Barker.
He has been writing and performing cowboy poetry since 1990. Stan
appeared five years on the annual Cowboy Poetry Gathering at the
National Cowboy Hall of Fame in Oklahoma City; and six
years on the annual National Cowboy Symposium in Lubbock, Texas. He is
also a member of the Texas Cowboy Poets Association and of the National
Storytelling Association.
His articles and poetry have appeared in a number of publications, including: The Saturday Evening Post, American Cowboy Poet Magazine and now, The Wyoming Companion.
A young preacher had his first church
Out in cattle country many years ago.
The parsonage was next to the church building,
Far away from any city's ebb and flow.
His little congregation was made up of
Cattle ranchers, for the most part.
So the preacher dreamed of a bigger ministry,
But figured this was okay for a start.
One Saturday evening a winter storm blew in,
Piling snow in drifts three feet tall.
The young preacher began to get the blues,
Worried no one would attend church at all.
Sunday morning he dressed and quietly waited,
With the clock ticking down to almost ten.
When down the road came a noisy Ford pickup,
Leaving deep tracks where it had been.
The cowboy driving the pickup was dirty,
From getting out the morning cattle feed.
And for all the weatherman's dire warnings,
Why, he just didn't pay them any heed.
The preacher welcomed the shivering cowboy,
Who shed his hat and coat in the hall.
The old cowboy was kinda stoop shouldered,
But his boots put him at over six feet tall.
The preacher began his sermon sorta slowly,
But picked up steam and preached on and on.
When he finally quit he checked his watch
He saw two whole hours had somehow gone.
" What did you think of my sermon on heaven?"
He asked, before the cowboy got away.
He was curious about the old man's opinion,
For he seldom had much of anything to say.
"Well, preacher, I sure nuff believe in heaven.
And I agreed with might near all you did say.
I just know when only one cow comes up to feed,
I don't dump out the whole load of hay."
Stan Paregien was born in Oklahoma in 1941. He grew up on a section of the famous Newhall
Ranch that is located about 75 miles north of Los Angeles. That's where
he learned to rope and ride and to love the cowboy way of life.
He has been a member of Western Writers of America (WWA) since 1984, and
served for four years as the historian and publicist of that group of
professional writers who write about and promote the Old West. He is
author of a book on cowboy poet S. Omar Barker.
He has been writing and performing cowboy poetry since 1990. Stan
appeared five years on the annual Cowboy Poetry Gathering at the
National Cowboy Hall of Fame in Oklahoma City; and six
years on the annual National Cowboy Symposium in Lubbock, Texas. He is
also a member of the Texas Cowboy Poets Association and of the National
Storytelling Association.
His articles and poetry have appeared in a number of publications, including: The Saturday Evening Post, American Cowboy Poet Magazine and now, The Wyoming Companion.
High Country Communications