The Cowboy's Soliloquy

All day over the prairies alone I ride,
Not even a dog to run by my side;
My fire I kindle with chips gathered round
And boil my coffee without being ground.

Bread lacking leaven, I bake in a pot,
And sleep on the ground for want of a cot.
I wash in a puddle and wipe on a sack,
And carry my wardrobe all on my back.

My ceiling the sky, my carpet the grass,
My music the lowing herds as they pass.
My books are the brooks, my sermon the stones,
My parson a wolf on a pulpit of bones.

But then if my cooking ain't very complete,
Hygienists can't blame me for living to eat,
And where is the man who sleeps more profound,
Than the cowboy who stretches himself on the ground.

My books teach me constancy ever to prize,
My sermons that small things I should not despise,
And my parson remarks from his pulpit of bone,
That 'the Lord favors them who look out for their own."

Between love and me lies a gulf very wide,
And a luckier fellow may call her his bride,
But cupid is always a friend to the bold,
And the best of his arrows are pointed with gold.

Friends gently hint I am going to grief,
But men must make money and women have beef.
Society bans me, a savage and dodge,
And Masons would ball me out of their lodge.

If I'd hair on my chin, I might pass for the goat
That bore all sin in ages remote.
But why this is thusly I don't understand,
For each of the Patriarchs owned a big brand.

Abraham emigrated in search of a range,
When water got scarce he wanted a change.
Isaac had cattle in charge of Esau,
And Jacob "run cows" for his father-in-law;

He started in business clear down at bed rock,
And made quite a fortune by watering stock.
David went from night herding and using a sling,
To winning a battle and being a king.

And the shepherds when watching their flocks on the hill,
Heard the message from heaven, of peace and good will.

by Allen McCandless, 1885

Now, O Lord, please lend Thine ear,
The prayer of the cattle man to hear;
No doubt many prayers to Thee seem strange,
But won't you bless our cattle range?

Bless the round-up year by year
And don't forget the growing steer;
Water the land with brooks and rills
For my cattle that roam on a thousand hills.

Now, O Lord, won't you be good
And give our stock plenty of food;
And to avert a winter's woe
Give Italian skies and little snow.

Prairie fires won't you please stop?
Let thunder roll and water drop;
It frightens me to see the smoke-
Unless it's stopped, I'll go dead broke.

As you, O Lord, my herds behold-
Which represents a sack of gold-
I think at least five cents per pound
Should be the price of beef th' year 'round.

One more thing and then I'm through-
Instead of one calf, give my cows two.
I may pray different than other men,
Still I've had my say, and now, Amen!

New Mexico's Socorro Bullion, October 30, 1886A Prayer

A Prayer

It is my joy in life to find
At every turn of the road,
The strong arm of comrades kind
To help me on with my load.

And since I have no gold to give,
And love alone must make amends,
My only prayer is while I live,
God make me worthy of my friends.

Frank Dempster Sherman (1860-1916)