FROM THE EAST TO THE WEST

HISTORY-TRAVEL

Chuckwagon Tales

                                                     The Chuck Wagon 

 

Chuckwagon Tales

Mizz Tinny and Fretherne

A Western Biography

Lonesome Luke

Ghostriders

Gunfighter Jake

A Pony Named Tony

Cowboys Christmas

 

Hat Creek BendA western biography

         

A Western Biography

 

(from Chuckwagon tales)

   © 2004

Miz Tinny and Fretherne

 

After they hanged my paw

It  jus’ left me an’ maw

To live with my Granpaw down at Hat Creek Bend    

 

‘Twarn’t really a spread

More like a homestead

But to me the land stretched on and on without end..

 

Granpaw would say with laughter

Shoot first ask questions after

What I got is mine and mine I will defend.

 

 

So  mebbe he was right

To shoot an Injun one night

When he  found him skulkin' round ol' Hat Creek Bend.

 

So I got the Injun’s pony

An’ I renamed him Tony

And for ten years that hoss was my only friend.

 

Granpaw left in forty-nine

To dig a big gold mine

With  an itch to return rich to Hat Creek Bend.

 

He rode off with Steve and Vince

And we ain’t never seed ‘em since

He left maw and me the critters for to tend.

 

 

But poor maw she got ill

As women so often will

And we buried her right over yonder at Hat Creek Bend

 

An’ then we had the Civil War

But what we wuz  fightin’ for

To understand  I really can’t pretend

 

 

We mostly fought back east

That’s the time I liked the least

I often wished  I was back at Hat Creek Bend

 

At Manasssis with General Lee

I got shot here in  my knee

But twenty thousand other fellers met their end

 

When the doc let me out of bed

I went back to the old homestead

 I ain't ever gonna leave old Hat Creek Bend.

 

Dust Bowl

DUST  BOWL
 
MIZTINNY AND FRETHERNE
FROM CHUCKWAGON TALES
 
The farmer and the cowboy must both respect the earth
For growin' and for grazin' they must both know what it's worth
For fertile land
Can turn to sand
When abused, to the deserts it gives birth
 
God gave the sun and rain to make the prairie grow
And along with every winter he sent the gentle snow
Cattle grazed the fine green grass
For years until it came to pass
Man ripped up God's green prairie with his plow
 
Now the plow is idle: its share is red with rust
A monument to ignorance and to man's money lust
Wind whipped earth darkens the sky
Copper colored clouds swirl on high
And at midday it's like twilight from the coppery dust
 
And now the land is bad land, no good for cow or seeds
Where once it grew long waving grass it now sprouts only weeds
And now we stand and wonder why
We lost good land to the copper sky
The Dust Bowl became a memorial to man's greed.

Lonesome Luke

LONESOME  LUKE
Miztinny and Fretherne     2004
Chuckwagon Tales
 
Now Luke he was a loner
He rode a lonely trail
His suit was black as lamp soot
His eyes were cold and pale
 
He made his livin' gamblin'
Ridin' from town to town
Some didn't like his dealin'
But most of those backed down
 
The other men that argued
Are well and truely gone,
And now they're just remembered
As notches on his gun.
 
He killed a cowboy up in Kansas,
Out-drew a sheriff in Cheyenne.
He was nearly lynched in Pecos
When he shot another man
 
He was mean and evil hearted
Cruel and wouldn't leave
A poker game when he could win
With an ace hid up his sleeve
 
Now, aces in your cuff are good
And beat most cards, I believe
But they don't beat a derringer
In the other player's sleeve.
 

Ghostriders

Ghostriders

GHOST    RIDERS

 

 

The range is no longer open, the prairie isn’t free

But the sky 's is full of herds and riders you can’t always see

On a stormy night in Texas if you look up at the sky

You won’t just see the lightning or black clouds rollin’by

 

The sky is full of ghostly figures, their scout ‘way out ahead

Long dead cowboys herding cows one hundred long years dead

The thunder of their hooves echoes in the driving storm

A flash of light, a clap of thunder and a true stampede is born

 

Hooves go pounding, driving , thundering o'er the open plain

Amid the flash of  lightning and sheets of driving rain.

Across the stormy sky they ride as fast as any bird

Ghost riders of the prairie tryin’ to turn the racin' herd

 

A gopher hole, a fallen steed, a wrangler dead upon the ground

And now his spirit rides across the sky without a sound

Many a wranglers’ fallen while the wild stampede raced on

But now they ride the range again though a hundred years long gone

 

The drumming of their hooves is the thunder that you hear

These galloping brave cowboys in their worn old ridin' gear

The lightning flashes are their campfires, the moving clouds their herds,

Wearin’ Stetsons with a halo hovering close above their head.

 

In lightnings flash and thunders crash I'll see them by and by,

The ghosts of long gone cowboys stormin' through the sky

The old herd is stampedin' and headin' out the downward way

Down the primrose path to face God's wrath that final round up day.

 

There's no rest for a cowboy even long after he's dead

While city folk relax at home or are snorin' in their bed

They'll ride the range in Heaven way up beyond the sky

And one day we'll ride it with 'em if we live right 'fore we die.

 

                                                                   

                                                                            by MizTinny and Fretherne

                                                                            from Chuckwagon Tales   ©2004

                                                       (Lorene Poe )

 

 
 

A Pony Named Tony

A PONY NAMED TONY

BY

MIZ TINNY AND FRETHERNE

 (C) 2005

 

FROM CHUCKWAGON TALES

 

When Ah was a kid

Ah always did

‘Zactly what I was told

 

I got a pony

I named him Tony

When I was twelve years old

 

I loved him like a brother

Didn’t want no other

Since he was out of the fold

 

Roundin’ up steers

For the next eight years

We worked the Chisholm Trail

 

Ridin' night and day

For not much pay

Through sun and rain and hail 

 

Had a chuck wagon cook

Didn’t use no book

His beans and stew made us pale

                               

We was pardners surely

The day he felt poorly,

Hobblin' slow, his head hangin' low.

 

But I had no sense

Tried to jump a fence

And down fell poor old Tony

 

The foreman spoke

His leg is broke

Ya gotta shoot that pony

 

It broke mah heart to do it

And I think Tony knew it

As we looked our last good byes.

  

Then he pricked up his ears, 
 Ah shot him through the head,

And my eyes flooded with tears 

 

Ah wept and cried

Leavin’ him where he died

On the hard trail lying dead

 

Lookin' back up high

Buzzards in the sky

Waitin' 'till we was gone

 

Then stars in the sky

Twinklin goodbye

Made them buzzards fly on 

 

Ah walked home to the ranch

Washed my face in the branch

Then sat down and cried some more.

 

The old trail boss

Said he don’t need no cross

We’ll remember him evermore

 

So he sleeps alone

With no gravestone,

The prairie for a bed.

 

ButAh tell you

He still gallops through

The memories in my head

 

 

top of the page                                              home

Cowboys Christmas

Annalee 9-Inch Cowboy Santa Hugging Reindeer--New in 2006!
COWBOY'S  CHRISTMAS
 
I ain't never seed an ocean
Nor swum in a big salt sea
Nor tried steam locomotion
Them thaangs just ain't fer me.
 
I spend long days in the saddle
Get weary and tired and sore
So saddle sore I waddle
But don't want to leave it no more
 
But I've seen a prairie sunrise
The sky turnin' bright pink
A treat for any cowboy's eyes
There's no fairer sight I think
 
A range of purple mountains
And purty desert skies
The sunset in the evenin'
And desert fire flies
 
Them purty cactus flowers in spring,
In winter kivered with snow,
And God's creation of beauty
Here on the earth below
 
Christmas ain't fer cowpokes
Not spent out there on the trail
Singin' carols, crackin' jokes
In the snow, the rain and hail
 
No turkey for our dinner
Just the normal bacon and beans
That's why we all get thinner
And can't hold up our jeans
 
But Christmas ain't just fer eatin'
It's fer prayin' and singin' too,
And round the fire we're meetin'
Old friends all stout and true
 
The sky is full of twinklin' stars
Look-there's a special one
It's bright and powerful shinin'
For the Master's little son.
 
top of the page                                               home