Oh, I was going to leave a nice comment about the photos. But now I'm sad.And hungry.
Well that's where the cowboy upping comes in. This is just stuff you see on a farm every day.They're cute when they're young but they can be onery too. When they take a notion to get out and run all over the place it'll about make you yell I'll be glad when you're a steak.I took a lot more pictures of cows over a hundred we'd all be crying if we dwelt on it but we all have to go sometime.
I especially like the rake tines.
You're not like the maid in Reynardine who was afraid of rakes.
Very nice photos! Cathy, the tines are my favorite too! BTW, in the previous post - the hardbody-hunk in the hay - is that you!?
So, if I say "maybe Cowboy Dan is a poet, he should give it a go" will we get a post of cowboy poetry?
OK.Maybe Cowboy Dan is a poet, he should give it a go.(Next, I'll ponder the possibilities of him being a pirate.)
Ma belle pal sans mercy!
Babelfish translates that as:My beautiful stake without mercy!I got nothin.Google translator gives:My good pal without mercy!Hardy, har, har!
Yeah! That's pretty close. See that's the working title, apparently, of the poem that Cowboy Dan is working on for the post - it's a revisioning of a Johnny Keats "La Belle Dame sans Merci" in which Dame is the name of a cow, the one that always strays from the herd, jumps over a fence and leads all the rest to run crazy every which way. She's a pretty cow, but cussed. Who knew?He showed me what he'd scratched out:O what ails you, Cowboy,alone on the trail loafing?The sage has withered on your knolland no coyote sings.O again I say, what ails you, Danso haggard and woebegone?The prarie dog has stuffed his cheeksand the cattle drive is done.I see lily on your browand anguished sweat like burnt off dew,your cheek's not as rosy as your noseand that's dried up too.I met a Cow on the range,as pretty as a fairy calf,her switch was long, her loins were lean,and her eyes were glassed.I threw a lasso at her head,tried for a foot, got it too,she looked at me as I roped her down and mooed.I tied her lead to my trusty steadand saw nothing else the whole day thrubut her sidelong glance, as she led me onwith that low and erie moo.Till all that mooing lulled me soAsleep I fell and down did goout of the saddle to Cowboy Helland this is the sorry story I tellI saw all the Cowboys that ever wereas pale as ghosts and and cussed as cursand all as one they raised a yell"that damned cow has led you straight to Hell!"I saw their gloomy mugs for whiskey crytheir eyes were red, their throats were dry,and when I waked, twas on the dirt,horse and cow both gone, and I was hurt.And that is why I'm loafing here,rubbing Parker's salve on my butt that stings,tho the sage is withered on the plain,and no coyote sings.
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