PARD
By Donna Penley He saved my life one stormy night when the rain was pourin’ down; Hailstones big as fighter’s fists, lightnin’ striking all around. The cattle bawled in fear and pain, then they began t’ run; An’ the little horse beneath me knew his job had just begun Without waitin’ for a cue from me he made a calculated move, Ran down th’ leaders of th’ herd, his bravery did prove! We turned th’ cattle then, and th’ storm was almost past; But neither I nor th’ little mustang saw the deep crevasse -- It seemed a long time that we fell, but we landed in soft ooze. “Thank God for the rain”, I cried ‘cause we was only cut an‘ bruised. But how were we gonna get outa there? I didn’t know where t’ start, But that little horse named Pard, well, he had a lotta heart. Th’ cattle that we’d turned looked down on us an’ bawled; Then I said to the little horse, “now Pard, ya got to give your all.” I grabbed hard onto his tail as he clawed his way to higher ground -- After a long time of slippin’ and slidin’ we made our way around To the place where we had fallen. I looked down and felt a chill -- ‘Cause had we fallen anywhere’s else, we’d a both been killed. Well, we limped our way back to th’ ranch, both proud t’ be alive; An’ when I told our story, I told the boys with pride: “This here little mustang’s gonna leave th’ string, ‘Cause I’m buyin’ him from the boss man when I get paid this spring”. Yeah, he saved m’ life on a stormy night when th’ rain was pourin’ down -- Hailstones big as fighter’s fists and lightning’ cloud t’ ground. Now, little Pard belongs t’ me. He’s in my personal string. An’ I know that if I ask ’im -- he can do most anything!! Copyright Protected
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorDonna Penley is a Cowgirl Poet with deep Kansas roots who has been writing cowboy poetry for over twenty five years. She is a real Cowgirl and an ex-barrel racer. Archives
March 2017
|