COWBOY POETRY: Old Man Speaks His Mind

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.

My friend and I were looking for a quiet place to eat.  We’d signed the deal and sold the cows.  Our day was near complete.

We’d driven my old Chevy ‘bout two hundred miles from home.  We hadn’t had a bath and neither head had seen a comb.

We both preferred The Coffee Shop, but that was far away.  So, we settled for a fancy inn that advertised “Buffet.”

The maître d’ looked down on us.  Said, “Move along old men.” His voice spoke with authority so moving was our plan.

But our legs were sore and swollen and they showed the years of wear.  We sure don’t break no record speed when using old Shank’s Mare.

I looked the young man straight ahead, then gave him my stink-eye.  I said, “We don’t mean much to you and think I know just why.”

“You’re primping in a new blue suit.  Your beak at 45.  No one has taught you manners, yet respect is still alive.”

“So, let this old man tell you just how much you oughta know.  And maybe if you’re smart enough you’ll use this chance to grow.”

“The beef, which you’ve been serving here, is more than chunks of meat.  Before they were a tenderloin, they walked on all four feet.”

“My friend and I raise beef you know.  Try kicking that about.  And I bet you’re clueless cows eat hay and where the crap comes out.”

“The spuds you place beside the meat are usually mashed or fried.  They’re grown by men who work the land.  Some old and some have died.”

“This job you now rely on depends on men like us.  Not to mention all the food you eat.  Consider that a plus!”

“So, next time you call us old men, shoot some earned respect our way.  And ‘bout right now a thank you would be nice for you to say.”

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