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    Views from the Saddle: Stories Around the Campfire
    Views from the Saddle: Stories Around the Campfire
    Views from the Saddle: Stories Around the Campfire
    Ebook131 pages1 hour

    Views from the Saddle: Stories Around the Campfire

    By Ray A. Twist

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Natalie Ridener ~ The Poetry Caf of Kingsville, TX

    This book we have just edited, Stories Around the Campfire will be Book #3 in a series of Views from the Saddle a Texas cowboys life in poetry, by Ray A. Twist.

    As a plus are: Mr.Twists short stories, that one can imagine, being read around a campfire, with Randy, Rusty, Lefty, and Slim.

    Goldia Hubert ~ Riviera, TX retired school teacher

    What a marvelous gift Ray has for expressing his thoughts. His love of family, nature, patriotism, are written with clarity and simplicity of expression, that is truly inspirational.

    He writes with an appreciation of character, honor, hard work, and duty-the kind of virtues, to which we aspire, for our children and grandchildren.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisheriUniverse
    Release dateFeb 11, 2014
    ISBN9781491723975
    Views from the Saddle: Stories Around the Campfire
    Author

    Ray A. Twist

    Ray A. Twist left poems on the table for his grandchildren to read before he left each morning to work his cattle, on his lease. The poems in his book reveal life in Texas. The poetry of Ray A. Twist also paints us a picture of his cowboy life in Texas for forty years.

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      Book preview

      Views from the Saddle - Ray A. Twist

      CAMPFIRE DREAMERS

      I’m glad I was dumb enough to be a cowboy,

      And didn’t waste my time going to school.

      I could make a little change riding the range.

      I was happy just being a fool.

      My boss kept me supplied with horses and saddles.

      I was good with a gun and a rope.

      There was always greener grass out there somewhere.

      Every morning I was filled with new hope.

      In the evening around the campfire,

      We dream of where we’d like to be.

      But most of us are already there.

      A cowboy ain’t a cowboy,

      Unless he is footloose and free.

      COLD ASHES

      If you’ll watch my smoke,

      You will know that I am leaving.

      My fire is out, and my ashes are cold.

      I will find a place,

      To do some grieving.

      My best friend took my woman, and my gold.

      I spent a year,

      Digging in the mountains,

      Working my poor fingers to the bone.

      I dreamed of palm trees,

      Sunshine, and sparkling mountains.

      I woke up, and the girl, and my gold was gone.

      Maybe my friend,

      Did me a favor.

      Perhaps he deserves the woman he got.

      When he spends my gold,

      The floozie will drop him.

      I’ll go build a new fire to heat up my pot.

      UNCLE JOE, THE BLUES MAN

      Everyone that I know,

      Knew and loved Uncle Joe.

      He had a mason fruit jar across his nose.

      He was always high,

      And he would sell, or would buy.

      If the joints saw him coming, they would close.

      He had holes in his shoes,

      And he made his own booze.

      He would share what he had anytime.

      That was a good deal for him,

      For his pickings were slim.

      Nearly always, he never had a dime.

      But just about every night,

      By an oil lantern light,

      He’d sit on his porch in that cane bottom chair.

      While folks all around,

      Was drawn to the sound,

      When his voice, and his guitar filled the air.

      Sometimes they’d form a band.

      That really wasn’t planned,

      With a harp, a fiddle, and a drum.

      Everyone would sing along,

      And if you didn’t know the song,

      They would just find the right key and hum.

      That was a long time ago,

      And there’s no way for me to know,

      Whatever happened to the old black man, we called Uncle Joe.

      OH, CARRY ME BACK

      I am an old cowboy,

      And all my friends are dead.

      Storms, rivers, and stampeding herds,

      Are running through my head.

      I long to ride the range once more,

      And feel freedom in the wind,

      To share beef and beans, around the campfire,

      And swap stories with a friend,

      To sleep out under a blanket of stars,

      With nothing to worry you.

      After a cowboy breakfast, we mount up,

      And push north in the morning dew.

      The sun ball hangs low in the eastern sky.

      The air is fresh and clean.

      The herd is going easy now.

      The grass is good and green.

      I dream of the times we pushed the herds,

      North to the long steel rail.

      It was hard and dangerous work,

      But a joy to be on the trail.

      NO ACT OF KINDNESS IS WASTED

      There was an old retired cowboy,

      That lived outside a small Texas town.

      One summer during a dry spell,

      Everything was turning brown.

      One day he saw a mangy coyote,

      That was old and poor.

      It sat on a little hill and stared,

      At his cabin door.

      Being a kind hearted cowboy,

      He thought, "Tonight after I eat,

      I will put my leftovers outside my door,

      For that old coyote a treat."

      He did that every evening,

      And as time went on,

      When he looked out every morning,

      All the food was gone.

      One morning the food was still there,

      On top there was a note.

      It said, "So far the food has been good,

      But I don’t like bar-b-q goat."

      I’ll catch the southbound, to the valley today,

      On Monday, I’ll be back.

      Would you like some home baked apple pie?

      Yours truly, Hobo Jack.

      A FISH STORY

      (a true story)

      By Ray A. Twist

      When I was a kid, I knew a guy in Oklahoma who made his living, hunting and fishing. We called him, Possum Hide. Well, the story got out about this monster catfish that lived under a cliff that formed the east bank of the river. In those days, we caught lots of catfish by hand, along the bank, from muskrat holes, etc.

      Anyway, old Possum Hide dove off the cliff in about ten feet of water. He came up and said the big fish was down there. He then measured the depth of the water, and allowed about three feet extra, so he could get out on the bank, after hooking the big fish. He tied the line to a big hook, then he tied the other end to his wrist.

      He waved to the crowd and

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