Baxter Black Poem

The West

by Baxter Black

Veterinarian and Cowboy Poet

They don't call it Death Valley for nuthin'

     And coyotes don't make a good pet

But livin' out here with the griz and the deer

     you pretty much take what you get

An the Mountains have shoulders like granite

     They're big and they make their own rules

So take what you need but you better pay heed

     'Cause the mountain don't tolerate fools

And the wind is the moan of the prairie

     That haunts and bedevils the plains

The soul stealin' kind that can fray an man's mind

     Till only his whimper remains

You can stand in the canyon's cathedral

     Where water and sky never rest

And know in your bones that the meek, on their own

     Will never inherit the West

     It's wild and it's wide and it's lonesome

Where the dream of first blood still survives

   And it beckons to those who can bid adios

                To the comfort of 8 to  5 lives

             So come all you brave cabelleros

              Cinch up and reach down inside

Till you feel the heat, then take a deep seat

'Cause the West, boys, she ain't broke to ride