Wallace McRae - Days Long Ago

Days Long Ago

by Wallace McRae

Come with me to my home town, Cold Shrift, Montana.

Remember that sand rock on Emil's crik',
Where dad carved his name in '13?
It's been blasted down into rubble and
Interred by a drag-line machine.

Where Phetel's lived at the old Miler place
Where us kids stole melons at night?
We dozed it up in a funeral pire,
We torched it - it's gone alright.

There's a railroad lug in the cold storage shed
Where the bison kill-site use to be,
McGive's place is gone and Ambose's too –
Abel Fortzes' a ranch refugee.

But things are boomin' - we've got this new school
That's envied across the whole state!
When folks up and ask 'How's things go’ in down there'
I grin like a fool and say 'Great!'
Great God how we're do’ in, we're rollin' in dough!
As they tear and they ravage the earth –
And nobody knows... and nobody cares...
About things of intrinsic worth.

S. Omar Barker - Cow'pin Moo-sic

Cowboy with Range Cattle

Cow'pin Moo-sic

S. Omar Barker, author, 1928
as recited by Larry Schutte


You ask me "Well, what's a beller?"
A beller's a bawl,
It ain't exactly like a moo
Nor yet quite like a squall.
 
Cows sure'll 'moo to coax their calves
From close by in the brush,
And bawl at night at weanin' time
Until it was that she hush.
 
But when she beller's -
That's got a heap more meanin'
Than just plain “cow'pin moo-sic”
You hear when calves are weaning.
 
For instance, let a range cow smell
Fresh blood from some dead critter,
Than she'll sure “enough beller”
Like she thinks all hell will get her.
 
Find it down about her foot –
And the weird sounds she makes,
It's enough to give a man
The chills and shakes.

Then all the cattle 'round about
Will come snuffing at a trot,
To help her beller' for the dead
When they reach that spot.

There ain't no squall a banshee makes
To make your neck hair rise
Like that there bovine blood call
As it echoes to the skies.
 
A calf will beller' when
He's roped or branded –
And a cow she'll beller'
When she's on the prod.
 
And I better tell ya' how to tell a beller'
From a bawl for it ain't alone that sound,
'Cause a bawl is mostly pointed up –
But a beller's toward the ground.
 
And if yer still somewhat in doubt
Of these beller' facts,
A bawl becomes a beller'
When it's tongue is stickin' out.

Ever curious cows

Riding Range at Day’s End

A settling winter’s day over snow-capped peaks

Sue Wallis - A Thousand Pretty Ponies

Rangeland Horses

A Day Often Spoke Of,

A Thousand Pretty Ponies

by Sue Wallis

Come on you little darlin's and let's go watch your daddy gather

A thou­sand head of horses out of grassy Garven Basin.

They are running altogether as they have been all this winter

And it is a sight that we may never chance to see again.

So let's hurry up the mountain, watch and sit and wait there

To see a thousand pretty ponies pouring down off Garven's Range.

A hard day of riding o'er a bunch of fresh horses and finally

We have them all lined out and lopin'.

We lead them toward the trail and we cut off their choices,

'till they headed uphill just like we'd been hopin'.

Now I see my sweetheart, the kid's and they're a'waving –

Even the wee one's from thereon are bidin'.

I thought that they would like the sight of us gatherin'

A good thou­sand horses is the sight worth the trip.

Over yonder see them comin' there's your daddy and he's running

With a thousand head of horses down from grassy Graven Basin.

They are ripplin' like a river with their manes and tails a'flying,

Flashing, glinting colors, proudest thing I've ever seen!

And see your daddy swaying as he comes a'riding hard an' spurring

Leading all those pretty ponies pouring down off Garven's Range.