Me and old Jethro were ridin’ the line
Checkin’ the fences and such
The weather was hot but the horses were fine
And the cattle were down in the gultch
I looked at old Jethro, he never said much
He sat tall and straight as a pine
His face was tanned the color of snuff
And his clothes were covered with grime
Like many a cowpoke he was practically mute
As silent and still as a deer
But when he spoke he told you the truth
Usually something you needed to hear
The day was a scorcher, as I was sayin’,
I was dreamin’ about a cold drink
Maybe a swim I was hopin’ and prayin’
I needed to wash off my stink
We were guiding our horses down toward the creek
When Jethro began clearing his throat
I stopped in my tracks when he started to speak
Then he spat out a lugi and croaked,
“You oughten go down to the crick in this heat
Them rocks are a crawlin’ with snakes.”
Then he turned his old mare and made his retreat
And left me to make my mistakes
I wasn’t afraid of a rattler or two
The water looked rippling and cool
So I did what I thought I needed to do
And guided my horse to the pool
Makes me think that ...
In this piece Harris Tobias continues his descriptive insights into the working world of the cowboy.
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