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Category
3 - Poets Age 19 & Up
First
Runner-Up
Cowgirl's Best Friend
By Lyn Melnechenko, of Princeton, BC
That damned ole saddle horse of mine
Is ornery as sin.
At frosty dawn he won’t be caught
Until I rope him in.
Then he snorts and blows a lot
And dances like a fool,
Until I try to lead him
Then he’s balky as a mule.
Tacking up can be a chore
When he puffs out his girth.
I have to kick him in the gut
And tug for all I’m worth.
He clamps his teeth when he sees the bit
And he holds his head real tall.
I almost need a ladder
To bridle him at all.
Now he’s tacked and ready to ride
And I attempt to mount.
He waits ‘til I’ve got one foot up
And then he spins around.
And when we’re finally on the trail
He’s constantly aware
Of imaginary “spooky” things
That may be hiding there.
There’s monsters in the mud holes
And there’s bears in all the bush.
And when I ask him to cross the creek
I nearly have to push.
He hates to step in mud holes
Although I make him do it.
So he deliberately splashes me
As he goes prancing through it.
He travels faster heading home
Than when he’s heading out.
Forget about “horse whispering”
I usually have to shout.
He has a sense of humour though.
I’m sure I’ve heard him laugh
When he decides to crowhop
And I go flying off.
But when I need a working horse
For cutting cows and more
He’s the hardest working horse around
He’s like a four-by-four.
So, though he’s real cantankerous
We’re kinda pals you see.
If he could talk I’m pretty sure
He’d say the same ‘bout me!
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