Road Grader Roundup

                                                 Road Grader Roundup 

                                                         by Trey Poage

 

Five bulls left in a ten-section pasture

All turned three in the spring of last year

 

Of all the meanest, they were the worst

Their natural-born enemy: a man on a horse

 

Six thousand vertical acres of rock and cat-claw

It’s a wonder they hadn’t missed them all

 

High heeled boots they didn’t wear

But they could rope a lion and tie a bear

 

‘Cause lack of punch don’t mean lack of poke

Just ask those who know the Fowlkes

 

Horses and mules and sixty-foot ropes

And reckless abandon was their only hope

 

Got to get those bulls in tow

‘Cause in the gathering they’d always blow

 

The men all mounted on their trustworthy snides

All true and honest rides

 

And Clegg on his beloved Roan

With a heart of gold and feet of stone

 

On the hunt, looking to find

They’d have to get them one at a time

 

Peque shook out a loop and caught a neck

But then the deal went to heck

 

He dallied up and put on the brakes

Heeler misses, off the bull makes

 

He finally gets the wraps undone

Cowboys nothing; Bulls 1

 

Such is the morning and early afternoon

At lunch the trailer still has lots of room

 

But this bunch is made of heart

They won’t quit till death or dark

 

Clegg remounts and sees a tail

And Roanie is soon on the trail

 

At the end of the rope, the bull doubles back

There is no time in which to react

 

The horn sinks deep, a killing blow

Roanie’s dead and Clegg’s heart is low

 

He says, “Boys these horses aren’t enough,

If we’re gonna get ‘em, we got to play rough

 

Let’s quit for now and come back later,

And drag ‘em out with that old road grader.”

 

Next morning, like he said

He got Ole Yeller out of the shed

 

Splintering saplings and vaporizing cacti

Keep them hosses out the way of this Cat, guys!

 

Turn ‘em back and bring ‘em to the blade

Tie ‘em off and you’ve got it made

 

Horses lame and getting lamer

From dragging those bulls to that old maintainer

 

As for the rest, it worked like a charm

Next stop, El Paso sale barn

 

One bull no-one would buy

After he crawled up and gored the auctioneer’s thigh

 

Thank goodness he didn’t get any higher

Goodbye bull, hello Oscar Meyer

 

The rest, however would not leave him lonely

They, too, would soon be baloney

 

Except for one who caught the eye of a buyer

‘Cause the hump on his back was a little bit higher

 

That December he was at the Thomas & Mack

With an unlucky roughie strapped to his back

 

He got there ‘cause he’d won twenty times twice

And the guys in the chutes had the advice

 

Keep your mind in the middle and on each side, a leg

If you aim to cover the outlaw bull, Clegg