Now Yavapai Pete was a cowpuncher neat,
From Arizona’s fair clime.
Lived in his saddle and punched most the cattle
From here to the Mexican line.
His ridin’ was sassy, his ropin’ was classy,
He liked to mix, mingle, and maul;
Not much of thinker, was more of a drinker,
And could uphold his end in a brawl.
A face like a hatchet, a head made to match it,
And a nose like a pelican’s beak;
His legs were all bowed and he was pigeon-toed,
With a chin that was plum mild and meek.
He’d been in the weather, his skin was like leather,
His hands were all horny and rough;
You could see by his stride he was just made to ride,
And no broncho for him was too tough.
A very good hand with a whole lot of sand,
And a voice like a bellerin’ bull.
Pretty much on the brag, and at chewin’ the rag
He was a while corral full.
He once told a tale of hittin’ the trail,
A-huntin’ new ranges to ride;
They’d hung up a bounty in Yavapai County
For whoever could bring in his hide.
He rode to a ranch and asked if by chance
They needed a good buckeroo.
They said he was rough, but not tough enough,
As a bronk peeler he wouldn’t do.
Then he rode o’er a rise and battin’ his eyes,
A-lookin’ down into a swale,
He’d come to the lair of a she grizzly bear,
And she was a-holdin’ the trail.
Then he mounted that bear with a handful of hair,
For a quirt used a real rattlesnake,
He rode with a rush out thru the buck-brush,
A-swarin’ that beast the would break.
To the ranch they did do where Pete hollered “whoa.”
Then asked the boss what he’d pay—
“My mount is docile fer I’ve rode her a mile,
And we’re a-huntin’ a job today.”
The boss called his stack, said “Come to the shack.
You look like you might be alright.
That growlin’ old bear, yure ridin’ right there,
Et up my old range boss last night.”
Old Yavapai Pete he couldn’t be beat
At lootin’, shootin’, and sin.
The chuck-wagon deck was a sorrowful wreck
When Yavapai Pete butted in.
He fanned his gun fast but they got him at last,
And he died with his boots on his feet.
The wild West was rid of a dangerous kid
With the passin’ of Yavapai Pete.
(Curley Fletcher)
More Poetry from Curley Fletcher:
Curley Fletcher Poems based on Topics: Hair, Night, Faces, Danger & Risk, Weather, Sin- The Ridge-Running Roan (Curley Fletcher Poems)
- The Saga Of Borax Bill (Curley Fletcher Poems)
- The Cowboy's Prayer (Curley Fletcher Poems)
- The Strawberry Roan (Curley Fletcher Poems)
- That Bucking Bronk, Coyote (Curley Fletcher Poems)
- The Cowboy's Soliloquy (Curley Fletcher Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Night Poems, Faces Poems, Hair Poems, Sin Poems, Danger & Risk Poems, Weather PoemsBased on Keywords: ranch, maul, pelican, a-lookin, corral, whoa, punched, shootin, hollered, swale, thinker