COWBOY POETRY: Good Horse Ginny

Bryce Angell is a cowboy poet. Angell was raised on a farm/ranch in the St. Anthony, Idaho area with approximately 75 head of horses. Horses remain an important part of Angell's life. Angell shares his poetry with Cache Valley Daily every Friday.

One night while I was ridin’ home old Ginny took a tumble.  Flew past her head and hit the ground, left sittin’ there to grumble.

I only saw one end of her.  She took off on a run.  My coat was flappin’ in the wind.  She even had my gun.

Well Ginny wasn’t known to be the tamest of her bunch.  It looked to be a lonely night, an absolute wrong hunch.

Now some would say to be on foot ain’t really all that bad.  But my cowboy boots were plumb worn out.  They’re all I’d ever had.

Each step was worse as pine cones kept a jabbin’ in my toes.  I wondered if the trail was marked.  Well only heaven knows.

That night I had my pocket knife, not much for self-defense.  Why did I let her get away? Could I really be that dense?

And then I heard a noise ahead.  I recognized the sound.  He grunted as he moved ahead.  He’d have me in one bound.

I wondered if he saw me.  “Heaven help me!” I did pray.  But then it stopped as bears will do, prob’ly eyeing his next prey.

Was I about to be a meal?  My feet weren’t plantin’ roots.  This time I couldn’t feel the pain from worn-out cowboy boots.

The creature was so doggone close I almost felt his breath.  I was runnin’ like a rabbit.  Dang near had me scared to death!

Just call me almost dinner, then I heard a horse’s whinny.  I turned and took a look in back.  There stood my good horse Ginny.

I’d have to say I sure was glad to see that worthless nag.  She’d found her way back to me, now had earned my right to brag.

I’d said that I was really scared, but I was just pretendin’.  ‘Cuz I knew that horse was comin’ back and now we’re on the mendin’.

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