My good friend, Danny, is one of the cowboys I hire anytime I have large groups of cattle to gather for vaccinations, branding, marketing, etc.
He is one of a crew of four and they have proven to be an invaluable asset for the past several years because of their skill at working cattle in an easy-going, deliberate manner, that reduces stress on the livestock – and me. As an added bonus, their fun-loving demeanor has also provided me with an abundance of material to write about.
Danny (unbeknownst to many) is also an up-and-coming cowboy poet and usually amuses the group with his latest composition when we take a break or have lunch. I knew, early on, that the man had talent because he has even recorded a couple of CDs and his musings are played regularly on one of the local country radio stations nearby. He has also started entertaining groups of farmers and cattlemen, and has been received exceedingly well, but even I was surprised when I visited with him last week and he informed me that his services might cost me a little more than usual this fall.
“What makes you think you need a pay raise?”
It was at that point that Danny, smiling broadly, whipped out a trophy belt buckle that proudly identified him as the Best of the Best cowboy poet in a recent national competition held in Abilene, Kan. Since he had won the event over 50 other contestants from 10 states, Danny jokingly declared, “Actors that win an Academy Award always demand much more money for their next film.”
“Yeah, well, the next time someone mistakes you for Brad Pitt or Leonardo DiCaprio, let me know and we’ll talk money then.”
I was impressed with Danny’s accomplishment, though, especially since I have never been able to rhyme words or thoughts in my life. I can remember being given an assignment, while in high school, to compose a poem for my English class. The teacher was not impressed, even after I did my best sales job to convince her it was one of those “new age” poems that didn’t require rhyming. She marked my paper with a capital “D” and wrote, in red ink, “Nice try!”
However, Danny’s recent success did get me to thinking. Not only did he win a beautiful buckle, but I can only assume that a nice cash award went along with the hardware. Maybe the newspapers and magazines that run my column would also be interested in publishing (at an additional fee, of course) original cowboy poetry by yours truly. Heck, it’s been 50 years since I last tried my hand at poetry, so I surely could do better now.
So, my friends, I’m happy for you to be able to serve as witness to my very first endeavor into the lucrative and rewarding field of: cowboy poetry.
Some Angus are red,
Some roans are blue.
Danny’s got a buckle,
And I want one, too.
Editor’s note: The winning cowboy poet referred to in this column is Danny McCurry of Ash Grove, Mo. He performed his cowboy poem, “Ole Silver at the Wild Bill Hickok Days PRCA Rodeo in Abilene, Kan., then competed for two days at the National Cowboy Poetry Rodeo held in Abilene, Kan., where cowboy poets from 10 states participated. He won first in the Serious Division and took second in the Humerous Division, earning the championship title.
