Rodeo Cowboy

 

Pressed here between the pages

Of the memory of my mind

Is a mental photo-type of Vern,

From the past, both cruel and kind.

 

But really is it fair to dwell

On the weakness in a man,

If we all will look back honestly

And see the course we ran?

 

He was known to everyone as Vern

To man and gal alike;

He always had a ready smile

For every rancher’s tike.

 

He took to ropin’ as a boy,

Was an expert as a man.

With long rope or tied hard and fast,

You’d best leave yours in the can.

 

From the ranch in El Sobrante

To the big time rodeo,

He roped and dogged and made a mark

For the rest to make their show.

 

The Cow Palace, Boston Gardens,

And famous Madison Square;

Denver, Phoenix and San Antone,

All knew that he was there.

 

He roped in sunshine, wind, and rain

Once he dogged with a broken leg;

He piled that steer and threw him fair,

All on that busted peg.

 

He threw his dough on the blanket

And drank his whiskey neat;

A Seven X Beaver graced his head

And handmade boots on his feet.

 

The stories they are many

And most of them are true

But all in all, he rode with the best;

He was a cowboy through and through.

 

But Saint Peter was the timer

And Vern, he drew the call;

You can bet he answered with a grin

And nod to one and all.