Pard
by Donna Penley

He saved my life one stormy night, when the rain was pourin' down;
Hailstones big as fighter's fists, lightnin' striking all around.

The cattle bawled in pain and fright, then they began t' run;
An' the little horse beneath me knew his work had just begun.
Not waiting for a cue from me, he made a calculated move;
Ran down th' leaders of th' herd, his bravery did prove!

We turned th' cattle then, th' storm was almost past;
But neither I nor th' mustang saw the deep crevasse --
It seemed a long time that we fell, but we landed in soft ooze.
"Thank God for the rain," I said. We were only cut an' bruised.

Th' steers that we had turned looked down at us an' bawled;
"Come on, Pard," I told th' horse, "Ya have ta give your all."
And give his all he did. We fought our way t' higher ground;
An' hour of slippin' and slidin', we finally came around
To the place where we had fallen. Lookin' down I felt a chill.
If we had fallen anwhere's else, we'd a both been killed.

We limped our way back to th' ranch, mighty glad to be alive;
An' when I told our story, I told th' boys with pride --
This here little mustang's gonna leave th' string,
'Cause I'm buying him from the boss when I get paid this spring."
Yes, he saved my life on a stormy night when the' rain was fallin' down,
Hailstones big as fighter's fists, and lightnin', cloud t' ground!
Now little Pard belongs t' me. He's in my personal string.
An' I know that if I ask 'im, he can do most anything!

Y' Ain't No Cowboy Yet
By Donna Penley

You got a look about y', son, that th' city girls adore;
Those boot cut jeans an' palm weave hat --
But, a cowboy's so much more!

You think you're quite a hand, t' hear y' talk and blow;
But, yore boots are too shiny an' y' smell too good --
So here's some things I wanta know:

Do y' know one end of a horse from another?
Can y' use that lariat? If y' can't tie a calf in under ten,
Then y' ain't no cowboy yet!

Do y' know th' names of th' boss' best cows?
Know th' date their calves are due?
Know how to doctor a dogie while mama's there, wantin' a piece o' you?

Do y' get along with yore regular mount, like yore two minds have met?
Can y' count on him t' come through in a pinch?
If not, ya ain't no cowboy yet!

Well, pard, I could expound -- on an' on I'd go;
But there's more t' bein a cowboy
Than dancin' to Cotton Eyed Joe.

So I wish y' well in yore endeavors;
I'm glad that we two met --
But I'll tell y' pard, here's my true opinion --

Y' AIN'T NO COWBOY YET!

Fletcher, the Cow Catcher
By Donna Penley

We spent long days together, ol' Fletcher an' me;
Workin cattle on a ranch -- We were a team, you see!
No steer could get away from us, or leave th' herd behind.
Fletch an' me was a team. You could say we were of one mind.

There were times I ate while on th' run; workin cattle was our life.
Sometimes Fletcher didn't get his oats 'til way into th' night.
Then came th' day that cowboyin' didn't seem like so much fun;
An' me an' Fletcher realized that a new life had begun.

So Fletcher an' I, we parted ways, an' sad it was, that day;
His broomstick tail almost worn out, from draggin' all that way.
I look in on him now an' then, give his head a pat;
Tell him about my real horse, an' he's happy with all that!

Ol' Fletcher rests in a corner, his paint still bright an' gay --
Waitin' for another little wrangler t' take him out to play.
But I'll never forget those magic days we worked cattle in th' sun --
An' if there's a stick horse heaven, ol' Fletcher's place is won!