Remuda

Remuda
　
The night hawk sits with the remuda,
A lonely cuss at best.
Just watchin’ and thinkin’ all night long
Puttin’ his memory to the test.

With nothin’ left to think or do
He’s mentally separatin’ the strings
Within the small band of horses,
Ponderin’ colors and such things.

The gray and the chestnut are Danny’s,
The bay and the grulla, I think they are too.
His favorite’s that ‘ol palomino,
He’ll be a good stock horse when he’s through.

Jake’s been breakin’ the little paint horse
And lays claim to the dunny as well.
He’s got a fine lookin’ apaloosa.
Big, near sixteen hands, far as I can tell.

That stompin’ spitfire filly
Is one of Charlie’s bunch,
Out of his old black stud
I’ll say, just on a hunch.

The blood bay and the gelding with four white socks
And part of Bud’s trail mob.
His strawberry roan has some cow sense
And a good head for most any job.

He starts ponderin’ his own string,
And is pert near fond of that dark bay.
She’s a handful from time to time
But sure ‘nuff smarter than my gray.

That buckskin’s dusted my britches
And tried my might a time or two
But I’d almost lay down money
She’ll be as good as my old sorrel when I’m through.

That’s Billy’s there that’s actin’ up
And causin’ a stir within the bunch.
That’s a cayuse won’t never do nothin’
But eat yer gizzard for lunch.

Is that Cody’s over there limpin’?
Prob’ly just a stone bruise.
He had to shoot the pinto last month, broke leg…
But that horse’d paid his dues.

I wish’d I had the boss’ blue roan,
He’ll make a good stud horse, I’ll bet.
Maybe next year I’ll get a colt of his,
Better get in as good as I can get.

I’ve only ever named one horse
And he was simply “Pard.”
I still get lonesome when I think of our trails,
Boy, losin’ him was hard…

The night hawk’s still sittin’ with the remuda
When a new hand comes for his shift
But he sees him sittin’ there thinkin’
So he just lets his mind drift.

That buckskin there is Joe’s, and the bay, too;
He’s probably thinkin’ the same things…
The next night watch takes his place on the bluff,
Mentally separatin’ strings.