Cowboys are a vanishing breed,
Although there are still some around;
But not driftiní with tumbleweeds,
Like in western novels are found.


On a ranch, you might spot Ďem yet,
And they might ride a cowpony,
Thatís a goldern dude ranch, Iíll bet,
Where fancy cowpokes are phony.


On ranches where they are legit,
And itís real cattle that they tend,
Up on horses, they rarely sit.
Now, on pickup trucks they depend.


Ainít no more long drives on the trail,
Pushiní dumb critters toward slaughter.
Modern spreads are near roads or rail,
And thereís no shortage of water.


Yeah, you might find some punchers still,
Risking their necks at rodeo,
But most run up big doctorís bills,
And canít earn as much as they owe.


Romance is gone from that career,
To many bachelorsí regret.
The saloon bucking bull, I hear,
Is all the bronc bustiní most get.


© By RickMack (Rmrickmack@aol.com)

 

 

 

 

 


Watch these pages for other poems by RickMack.
In the meantime, click the links below for
poems and stories by our other authors.



The Rocks of Crabtree Falls

Young Love

Snowflakes

Red

Just Be My Valentine

Downtown Train Depot

Weaving

I Love You More In Winter

Oh, No

My Favorite Chair

Fairy Tales for Today's Woman

The Vampire's Valentine



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