Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE COWBOYS' CHRISTMAS BALL, by LARRY CHITTENDON


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE COWBOYS' CHRISTMAS BALL, by                    
First Line: Way out in western texas, where the clear fork's waters flows
Last Line: Huh, it was gettin' active, at the cowboy's christmas ball.
Subject(s): Cowboys


Way out in western Texas, where the Clear Fork's waters flow,
Where the cattle are a-browsin' and the Spanish ponies grow,
Where the northers come a whistlin' from beyond the Neutral Strip,
And the prairie dogs are wheezin' as though they had the grippe,
Where lonesome, tawny prairies melt into airy streams
While the Double Mountains slumber in heav'nly kinds of dreams,
Where the antelope is grazin' and the lonely plovers call,
It was there that I attended the cowboys' Christmas ball.

The boys had left the ranches and come to town in piles.
The ladies, kinder scatterin', had gathered in for miles.
And yet the place was crowded, as I remember well.
'Twas gave on this occasion at the Morning Star Hotel.
The music was a fiddle and a lively tambourine,
And a viol came, imported by the stage from Abilene.
The room was togged out gorgeous with mistletoe and shawls
And the candles flickered frescoes around the airy walls.

The women folks looked lovely, the boys looked kinder treed,
Till the leader commenced yellin', "Whoa, fellers, let's stampede,"
And the music started sighin' and a-wailin' through the hall
As a kind of introduction to the cowboys' Christmas ball.
The leader was a feller that came from Swenson's ranch,
They called him Windy Billy from Little Deadman's Branch.
His rig was kinder keerless, big spurs and high-heeled boots.
He had the reputation that comes when fellers shoots.

His voice was like a bugle upon the mountain height.
His feet were animated and a mighty movin' sight
When he commenced to holler, "Now, fellers, stake yer pen.
Lock horns ter all them heifers and rustle them like men,
Salute yer lovely critters, now swing and let 'em go,
Climb the grapevine round 'em, now all hands do-si-do.
You maverick, jine the roundup, jes' skip the waterfall."
Huh, it was gettin' active, at the cowboy's Christmas ball.






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