Member-only story
The Old Man of Laramie
The hard life of a cowboy brought to life in a poem
I sat across from an old cowpoke; he looked at me, and I at he, and then
I said, “Old man, can you tell me where you’ve been? And how much of it did you see?”
His old grey eyes looked me over and out came his reply.
“Down from the Brazos, the Pecos, and the Red, up to the Snake and down the Rio Grande, with my partners, most now long dead.
From the mountains and deserts, all across Texas, and all the flat lands, I broke them half-broke horses and punched their cattle for almost every brand. I’ve only got one more wish,” says he, with a voice most steady and in command.
“Make me a promise, and swear it so, the last roundup is nigh, and I ain’t got long. Take my saddle and my spurs, sing a song of joy; I need no dirge when you scatter my ashes to the four winds and bury my bones in the earth.”
And that’s what he said, this old man. He’ll be riding those trails again with the chums he knew from before. He’ll ride the last roundup up in the sky after he closed his eyes and spoke no more.
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