How dear to my heart was that old yellow slicker,
I carried ‘way back in my cowpunchin’ days;
‘Twas stiff as a board, but I wasn’t a kicker
When it was a-rainin’ an’ me huntin’ strays.
I carried it tied at the back of my saddle,
All ready for blizzard or windstorm or rain,
An’ ’twas my salvation when I had to straddle
My bronc’ an’ lope out on the mud-spattered plain.
That old yellow slicker,
That spacious old slicker,
I carried on many a round-up campaign!
That old yellow slicker! ‘Twas big and ’twas roomy;
It sure kept me dry when the rain trickled down;
I wore it on night-herd with skies black and gloomy,
It covered me well from my feet to my crown.
No matter how sloppy or muddy or lowery;
No matter how cold or unpleasant the storm,
No matter how blusterin’, gusty or showery,
That old yellow slicker I wore kept me warm!
That ill-fittin’ slicker,
That fish-oil-soaked slicker,
Its mission it never yet failed to perform.
That old yellow slicker which I have defended
Hangs there in the bunkhouse agin the log wall;
Its mission’s fulfilled, an’ its range life is ended–
No more do the herds on the cattle-trail call.
But sometimes I dream in the dim summer gloamin’,
An’ there in the embers which flicker an’ change,
I catch a faint glimpse of the herds that were roamin’,
An’ think of that slicker I wore on the range.
That battered old slicker,
That old yellow slicker,
A cattle-day relic I’ll never exchange!
(Earl Alonzo Brininstool)
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Based on Topics: Life Poems, Change PoemsBased on Keywords: trickled, gloamin, lope, huntin, roomy, showery, agin, sloppy, roamin, round-up, slicker
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