You mind that old oven so greasy and black,
That we hauled in a wagon or put in a pack.
The biscuits she baked wasn’t bad by no means,
And she had the world cheated fer cookin’ up beans.
If the oven was there you could always git by,
You could bake, you could boil, you could stew, you could fry.
When the fire was built she was throwed in to heat
While they peeled the potaters and cut down the meat.
Then the cook put some fire down into a hole.
Next, he set in the oven and put on some coals.
I allus remember the way the cook did
When he took the old “Goncho” and lifted the lid.
He really was graceful at doin’ the trick.
The old greasy sackers they just used a stick.
Boy Howdy! We all made a gen’l attack.
If the hoss with the dutch oven scattered his pack.
You mind how you lifted your hoss to a lope
And built a long loop in the end of your rope.
You bet them old waddies knowed what to expect.
No biscuits no more if that oven got wrecked.
We didn’t know much about prayin’ or lovin’
But I reckon we worshipped that greasy old oven.
And the old cowboy smiles when his memory drifts back
To the oven that rode in the wagon or pack.
(Bruce Kiskaddon)
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Based on Topics: World Poems, Fire PoemsBased on Keywords: lope, allus, cowboy, lovin, cookin, biscuits, throwed, hoss, prayin, howdy, waddies