Pale Horse, Pale Rider

My buddy, Dirty Al, is complaining about too many political postings. Due to ongoing statue of limitation restrictions, I can't tell more Dirty Al stories.

A family friend is a gifted writer and poet. He wrote this poem to commemorate the death of my brother-in-law.


Behold a Pale Horse
by Hal Swift

My buddy, Duane Laeger, just took off an' went
without even sayin' a word.
It just isn't like him to mount up an' ride.
You'd think that somebody'd have heard.

Then all of a sudden I hear a wild shout.
I look all around for the source.
An' here comes ol' Duane just a whoopin' it up,
and ridin' a borried pale horse.

It must've been borried because I've not seen
a horse like that here on this spread.
His mane flowed like honey, his tail did the same.
Ol' Duane had just give 'im his head.

Duane rides that there pony for straight where I stood.
He looks like a horse that I knew.
I hollars, "Hey Duane! Where'd you find that there stud?"
An' he says, "You don't, he finds you!"

That's when I knew where I'd once seen this horse.
Old Death had been ridin' him then.
An' that's when Duane hollered, "Be seein' ya, boy!'
And then he rides off on the wind.

I know that pale horse is out grazin' somewhere,
just waitin' for someone to bid.
Then he'll come an' get 'em, an' they'll ride away,
the same as ol' Duane and him did.

--0--

And I looked and behold a pale horse;
and his name that sat on him was death.
Revelation 6:8


You can learn more about the poet at

http://nphs.us/swift47.html

and

http://www.cowboypoetry.com/halswift.htm

Come to think of it, there are some potential blog posting involving Duane. Will check with my sister.

Cowboy Poet

New poem by Hal Swift, noted Cowboy poet and a close friend of my sister and late brother in law.

http://www.cowboypoetry.com/halswift.htm

Experience
by Hal Swift

Some time back, they's a sweet young thing,
with a look both wise an' bold,
sez, "You got the wrong idea 'bout age!
Yer experienced, you ain't old!"

I asked if she remembered Colonel Tim McCoy.
She sez, "Now none a yer tricks!"
I sez, I reckon you'd say the same thing
if I ask ya about Tom Mix.

Then I sez, Okay, take the Model A Ford.
Does 'rumble seat' make ya smile?
No, she sez, "But you'll tell me why,
if I jist wait around fer a while."

I sez, Do y'know what a bread line is?
She figgers it's to do with cattle.
She sez, "You'd know a lot more about that,
from alla yer time in the saddle."

Okay, I sez, Colonel Tim an' Tom Mix
was actors on the movie screen.
All of us boys tried to be like them,
the two finest cowpokes you've seen.

Two couples'd date in a Model A Ford,
an' the boy up front would drive it.
The other couple, back in the rumble seat,
could talk about love in private.

A bread line's where a lotta city folks went
to git a meal in the Great Depression.
They'd stand in line t'git some soup an' bread.
Cuz the "Great" was jist a expression.

A lotta these things folks my age has seen.
It's nothin' that we've been told.
To use yer words, we've 'Been there, done it.'
Experienced? Yeah, and we're old!

Poem

Sent to me by a friend

It's winter in Kansas
And the gentle breezes blow
Seventy miles and hour
At twenty five below

Oh how I love Kansas
When the snow's up to your butt
You take a breath of winter
And your nose gets frozen shut

Yes, the weather here is wonderful,
So, I guess I'll hang around
I could never leave Kansas
My ass is frozen to the ground

Cousin' Poem: Winter in Coloado

This poem was sent to me by a cousin.

It's winter in Colorado,
And the gentle breezes blow,
Seventy miles an hour,
At twenty five below.

Oh, how I love Colorado,
When the snow's up to your butt.
You take a breath of winter,
And your nose gets frozen shut.

Yes, the weather here is wonderful,
So I guess I'll hang around.
I could never leave Colorado
'Cause I'm frozen to the ground.