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Category Archives: poetry

“Cowboy’s Thanksgiving”

This poem is attributed to Frank L. Jones.  He was from Wyoming rather than Texas, but most likely would have fit in just fine in the Lone Star State.  It was presented by columnist Dick Perue in the Wyoming Livestock Roundup.
==
Wild turkey in the oven and the boys all gathered round
And they got to kinda talkin’ ‘bout the different things they’d found
That they could feel thankful for on this Thanksgiving Day,
And some, they told it serious-like, and some, they told it gay.

“I’m thankful most for cattle,” says Slim, who thinks a heap.
“Without them critters in the land we might be herdin’ sheep!”
Ol’ Bashful claimed that women was the blessing in his life
– he must have meant his mother, for he’ll never get a wife!

Tom thanked the Lord that hosses had four legs instead of two,
so cowboys don’t have to walk like some poor people do.
The Foreman he was thankful that the grass was good and long,
and Curly said he thanked the stars that he was young and strong.
And Bud, he blessed his appetite and the way that turkey smelt,
and said he felt thanksgiving for the long holes in his belt!

Ol’ Dunk, just kinda sucked his pipe and gazed off toward the hills.
Well boys, he says, I’m 69 years old and full of liver pills.
My rheumatism aches me and my pipe is gettin’ stale.
My hossy days are over, and I’m feelin’ purty pale.

My bunions are so bulblous that I’ve had to split my boot.
My ears – I’d have to climb the tree to hear a hoot owl hoot.
Cain’t drown my woes in likker, for my ticker’s on the blink.
I cain’t even read the cattylogs, the way my blinkers wink.

I’ve got some nose for smellin’ left – that turkey’s pert near done,
but all the chawin’ teeth I’ve got is about a half of one.
Ol’ Gus shore savvies fixin’ Turk! I’d like to eat a pound,
But hell, I couldn’t chaw it if he took and had it ground!

You talk about Thanksgivin’, boys, and here you see me set,
A plumb wore-out ol’ cowhand – but I’m mighty thankful yet,
For every hoss I’ve ever rode and every sight I ever saw,
But I’m thankful most of all for gravy – which a man don’t have to chaw! –

–attrib. to Frank L. Jones

 

Gobble gobble, y’all!  Hope that everyone has a nice Thanksgiving.

 
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Posted by on November 26, 2015 in humor, poetry, texas, thanksgiving

 

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“A Cowboy’s Thanksgiving”

remington.cowboy.thanksgiving

The poem below appeared in the El Paso Herald on December 4, 1911. It is unattributed.

==

Beautiful the sunshine pours over western plains,
And into little homes along the rugged mountain chains;
Thanks for this refulgent light in humble cottage cast,
That alleviates the burdens of a melancholy past.

My having to sorrow without one word,
And working in the stampede of the herd,
Makes me thankful for the peace and the rest
That come on Thanksgiving day in the west.

Thankful for the cattle’s large, appealing eyes,
And for my little home on the mountain’s gorgeous rise;
Thankful for the union of pleasure and sorrow,
And for the sunshine that will come on the morrow.

Thankful for the smile of little baby Ann,
Whose happy mother died with the year begin;
Thankful for the echoes of her voice in the breeze,
Where baby Ann listens and plays among the trees.

Thankful for the incentive to learn and advance,
And for those who have journeyed in this western expanse,
And for the privilege to be free and simple-
For my baby’s coiling curls and her glowing dimple.

— by A West Texas Cowpuncher

 
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Posted by on November 26, 2015 in poetry, texas, thanksgiving

 

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Poem for Veterans Day

A Young Girl-To the Unknown Soldier

I was only a baby
When you went to war.
I knew nothing of the torturing fears
That war can bring.
And yet my heart aches for you-
And for your mother.
Tonight, remembering you,
I pray to God.
I beg a puzzled world
To have done without bitterness and misunderstanding.
I say again and again,
“Do not let my husband and son
Be torn from the tenderness
Of my arms.”
It is not a brave way of speaking.
No—
But I do not see the tragic splendor
Of your grave.
I see a woman’s heart weeping-
For you.”

–by Elise Betty Kauders

From time to time we will post items that do not directly have a Texas connection.  The above poem by 18 year old Elise Betty Kauders was printed in the Lubbock Morning Avalanche in Lubbock, Texas on Armistice Day November 11, 1936 after being published in the November edition of Good Housekeeping in 1934.  Several of her poems and book reviews had been published by the time she graduated from high school.  Elise eloped and married Frederick Loeb in 1941.  Frederick was later drafted during WWII and served in the U.S. Army in Italy.  Elise tried to complete her college education several times but was interrupted by the Great Depression and for other reasons, but she finally got her college degree at the age of 50.

© 2015, all rights reserved.

 
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Posted by on November 11, 2015 in poetry

 

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Ben Milam

Benjamin Rush Milam was born in Frankfort, Kentucky in 1788 to Moses and Elizabeth Boyd Milam. He was named for Dr. Benjamin Rush, who had served soldiers including Moses Milam in the American Revolution at Valley Forge.  Ben enlisted in the Kentucky Militia as a private and eventually rose to the rank of Lieutenant during the War of 1812.  He remained in the army until his enlistment was concluded in 1815.

benmilam

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Posted by on October 29, 2015 in biography, county names, history, poetry, texas

 

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Mirabeau B. Lamar’s Poetry, 2

Carmelita
Carmelita, know ye not
For whom all hearts are pining?
And know ye not, in Beauty’s sky,
The brightest planet shining?
Then learn it now-for thou art she,
Thy nation’s jewel, born to be
By all beloved, but most by me-
O Donna Carmelita

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Posted by on September 30, 2015 in poetry, texas

 

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Mirabeau B. Lamar’s Poetry, 1

SAN JACINTO

Beautiful in death
The soldier’s corse appears,
Embalmed by fond affection’s breath
And bathed in his country’s tears.

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Posted by on September 7, 2015 in history, poetry, texas

 

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Poetry – Joseph Warren Speight

A Soldier’s Prayer

“Taps” have sounded and all is still,
Deep silence reigns, no light no sound
Disturbs the stillness of the camp;
The watchful sentries make their round.
Though night moves on, no sleep for me,
My thoughts are winged, they fly they roam,
Far, far away to those I love,
My wife, my children, and my home.

And here beneath my soldier’s tent,
Though midnight’s solemn hour it be,
There is an eye that sees us all—
My prayer ascends, O God, to Thee;
God of the faithful, of the strong,
God of the weak, God of the brave,
My native land, O God protect
My home, my wife, my children save.

At Thy behest do nations rise;
Let Thy right arm our cause defend,
The right secure, our country bless,
For this, O God, our prayers ascend;
Extend the shadow of thy wing,
Thou who seeist the sparrow’s fall,
And those for whom I live,
My wife, my children, country—all.

And where the din of battle comes,
Be thou, O God, a shield and friend,
Oh, nerve my arm; be Thou our strength
Our homes, our altars to defend,
And swiftly speed the day, O Lord,
When war shall cease and peace shall reign,
When with our loved ones far away,
We’ll all unite at home again.

Joseph Warren Speight (1825-1888)

This poem appeared in the Waco Morning News on 31 Oct 1911. The article said that the poem was written on the back of a piece of discarded wallpaper and had been recently picked up in a Confederate camp.

© 2015, all rights reserved.

 
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Posted by on January 2, 2015 in civil war, history, poetry, texas

 

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