Cowboy Poetry
by
John P. Doran

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Zambo’s Dance

I was packing in a hunting camp
on a wet and nasty day
My hat pulled down against the cold
it was snowing most the way.

Now the lead horse I was riding
had not been long in my string.
With little time in the mountains
he would shy at most anything.

I was leading ‘bout a dozen head
and this new horse wasn’t sure
He saw rock monsters at every turn,
jumped at each new sound he heard.

But we got to camp and set it up
in a clearing with lodgepole pine.
There was lots of wood, the creek ran clear,
so the boys would be just fine.

So this green lead horse was resting quiet,
munching grass along the trail
round the horn the first mule’s lead I’d thrown
as the others I pigtailed.

Well I guess those monsters came to life
when I was six mules down
For the lead horse bucked, he kicked and broke
then headed back toward town.

And the first mule had his rope wrapped tight
he’d no choice but to run.
But the third on back he braced his feet,
the pigtail went like a gun.

Well the hounds of hell were at him now
he knew that death was near.
So down the trail throwing mud and snow
with bulged eyes showing his fear.

No way I’d catch that horse on foot
it’d be useless to try.
So I jumped in the saddle of a client horse
went at him on the fly.

We caught them on a wide turn,
about half a mile down the trail.
I turned my horse, let him block their path
and stopped them with no fail.

Now the horse I rode was all run out,
he was blown and streaked with sweat.
He hadn’t planned to work that hard
that’s all the run from him I’d get.

So I jumped back up on Zambo’s back,
he’s the one who’d run away,
I figured he had strength enough
to finish out this day.

But once again the hounds of hell
went on the attack.
So in a panic run he backed up the trail,
but this time with me on his back.

Now he’s got no reigns, no headstall at all,
just a lead rope for my grip
And at each bound now he puts on more speed,
I just know he’s going to trip.

Then he heads in for the lodgepole,
to the jim jam dead and old.
Hell! He’ll kill us both when he hits the logs,
he’s got to get control.

So I pull the old Colt 45
that’s been strapped to my side.
I don’t mean to shoot, just rap him once,
a drastic step to save my hide.

But as my hand comes down, his head rears up,
I was aiming for his pole
And the combined forces meeting thus,
they really take their toll.

His lights went out like I’d pulled the switch,
and he buckled at the knee.
We cartwheel once, I threw out my arms
as the ground rushed up at me.

Now the 45 held in my hand,
I could not just let go.
It’s an heirloom from my Dad,
who’s had it 70 years or so.

So with arms outstretched I hit the ground,
rolled in the snow and mud,
And the pistol hit me in the head,
you should have seen the blood.

Well, the horse and I disentangled there
and he stood and shook his head.
While my clients all came rushing down,
would their packer soon be dead?

So I stood up and staunch the flow of blood
running down my face,
and the boys they gave a collective sigh,
guess I’d been put in my place.

Then they handed me a whiskey glass,
they had filled it all the way.
Said drink this down, take every drop
before you hear what we’ve to say.

You see we liked your little show
it was grand we do declare.
But our cameras all were packed away
in the tent with all the gear.

So if you would just one more time
take your horse through same fall
So we could have another chance
to get a picture of it all.

Well it took a bit for this to sink in,
what it really was they asked.
They liked it so much an extra fifty bucks I charged,
as entertainment tax.

But their request I did decline,
we’d both had quite enough.
Yet I’m sure the boys from out of town
think the cowboys here are tough.

And you probably wonder about the horse,
would I keep him in the string?
Or take him to the sale yard
and sell him in the spring?

Well I kept him on, I thought it fair
to give him one more chance
‘Cause I’m part to blame, I know that’s true,
so he’ll stay here on the ranch.

But we’ve learned some from our mistakes,
of this I have no doubt.
But I ride him now with a stout tiedown
and a spade bit in his mouth.

And we’re getting along we’re doing fine,
we’ve covered lots of ground
But I never pull that pistol out
while that horse is still around.

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