Way up along the mountain side and up on the mesas high.
You watch the silent shadows glide as the clowds go driftin’ by.
The leaves on the brush turns red and brown. It’s fall up there you know
And it’s time to bring the cattle down, it won’t be long till snow.
Back down to the winter range agin; they have been up there since spring
You must move ’em out or they’ll git snowed in, jest hear the cow boys sing.
They reckon it aint so bad at that; they’re travellin’ right along
The hosses and cows and steers is fat and the calves is big and strong.
A lot of them old cows knows the road. They’re out on the point and walkin’
They’re a going back down just like they knowed the same as if they’d been talkin’
But man if them steers knowed what was ahead they’d give it another look.
It won’t be long till they’ll all be dead and on the butcher’s hook.
The fall is the cow man’s harvest time; it’s then he collets and pays
And the cow boy shore earns every dime he makes through the summer days.
September is when the fall begins; it won’t be long till the snow
And so they are driftin’ the cattle in to the winter range below.
(Bruce Kiskaddon)
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Based on Topics: Time Poems, Summer Poems, Snow Poems, Winter Poems, Cows PoemsBased on Keywords: agin, snowed, earns, driftin, aint, talkin, walkin, hosses, mesas, travellin, clowds