Wednesday, February 3, 2010

The wreck in the meadow

 
Frank crossing the Graham river on Rebel

Wreck in the Meadow

It was a hot lazy day in the Meadow,
And we’d just sent out for an order of grub
We’d ordered up all types of vittles,
And booze enough for a tub

Our Smithy, Ole Blackie, was chosen,
To ride into town for the trip
Cause he was the only one willing,
And we knew won’t stop for sip

30 years he’d been off the bottle
“It’s the Devil’s own milk, sure” he’d say
And then, launch into his sermon
That would last, the rest of the day

So there we was, just a waitin’
A watching the hours drag by
Our taste buds in sweet ‘ticipation
Of the coolness of beer, rum or rye

But now, the bells of Big Meadow are ringing
For the pack train was now coming in
And out in front was the lead horse
The big bay that we called Gunga Din

But there wasn’t a rider upon him
His saddle was eerily bare
Just a note, on an old piece of birch bark
Instead of ole Blackie was there

“Boys I’ve fallen,” wrote Blackie
“We’ve had one heck of a wreck
It looks like I’ve gone and done it
Cause I think I’ve broken my neck.”

“No need to hurry,” he added
In penmanship more of a scrawl
“Cause I’ve kept some medicine with me
And it eases the pain from the fall”

Then like a hammer it hits me!
“Ride fast boys, we haven’t a second to lose!
Blackie’s fallen - but “off of the wagon”,
And he’s got the horse with our booze!”

No comments:

Post a Comment

Please feel free to leave a comment. Ever since old Rebel rolled on me and I've been strapped to this old hospital bed I've enjoyed whatever posts come my way.