S. Omar Barker
From the Cowboy Poetry website
A beef roast in the oven and the hands all waitin’ ’round,
So they got to kinder talkin’ ’bout the different things they’d found
That each of them was thankful for on this Thanksgiving Day,
And some, they told it solemn-like, and some, they told it gay.
Tom thanked the Lord that hosses had four legs instead of two,
So cowboys don’t have to walk like some poor suckers do.
Ol’ Bashful claimed that women was the blessing in his life—
No doubt he meant his mother, for he’ll never get a wife!
“I’m thankful most for cattle, boys,” says Slim, who thinks a heap.
“In a world without them critters we would all be herdin’ sheep!”
The Ramrod spoke his thankfulness that grass was good and long,
And Curly said he thanked the stars that he was young and strong,
While Bud, he blessed his appetite. The way that beef roast smelt,
He also felt thanksgivin’ for the long holes in his belt!
Ol Dunk, he kinder sucked his pipe and gazed off toward the hills.
“Well boys,” he says, “I’m sixty-five and full of liver pills.
My rheumatism aches me and my pipe is gettin’ stale.
My hossy days are over, and I’m feelin’ purty pale.
My bunion’s grown so bulblous that I’ve had to split my boot.
My ears—I’d have to climb the tree to hear a hoot owl hoot.
Cain’t down my woes in likker, for my ticker’s on the blink.
I cain’t enjoy the cattylogs, the way my blinkers wink.
I’ve got some nose for smellin’ left—that roast is purt near done,
But all the chawin’ teeth I’ve got adds up to only one.
Ol’ Gus shore savvies cookin’ beef! I’d like to eat a pound,
But hell, I couldn’t chaw it if he took and had it ground!
You talk about Thanksgivin’, boys, and here you see me set,
A plumb wore-out ol’ cowhand—but I’m mighty thankful yet
For every hoss I’ve ever rode and every sight I’ve saw,
But most of all for gravy—which a man don’t have to chaw!