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GARY ROBERTSON: Home

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Thanks for stopping by the site for a little look around. I hope you find something to interest you. Take a few minutes to look at the PHOTO GALLERY, CALENDAR, PRODUCTS, LINKS and GUESTBOOK. Listen to and or read a poem or two and contact me if you feel the urge.

See Ya , Down The Trail,

Gary.

The Saddle


I’ve got this saddle, it’s old ‘n it’s worn

   was old ‘n worn when it first came to me.

Don’t have no fancy carvin’

    ain’t built on a fine custom tree.

 

I know it ain’t worth much a nuthin’

    probably weren’t on the day it was made.

It’s value is in what it has taught me

    ‘bout honor, ‘n debts made, ‘n debts paid.

 

I don’t claim that I own that saddle

   It belongs to a feller I’ve only met twice.

You could say I’m it’s foster owner,

    yea, I think that title sounds nice.

 

It’s owner’s a saddle bronc rider

    down here from up Rosebud way.

Chasin’ the Indian rodeo

    a tough way to be makin’ your pay.

 

The first time that I made his aquaintance

    he was strugglin’, down on his luck.

Only had cash for his entry fees,

    or, food ‘n gas for his truck.

 

I had just paid my fees for the ropin’

    don’t know why, but Ipaid his fees too

Said, “when I need a hand, on down the road…”

    “I guess I’ll be callin’ on you.”

 

He thanked me for frontin’ the money

   said he’d pay me as soon as he could,

Said, “take this old saddle, as my guarantee”

    “it’ll prove my intentions are good.”

 

I told him I’d not be takin’ his saddle.

    he said then he’d not  be takin’ the loan.

Well, we shook hands and I loaded the saddle

    in my truck, there next to my own.

 

I did only fair at the ropin’

    roped two slow ones ‘n had me a wreck.

He didn’t do any better,

    got pitched off, didn’t make him a check.

 

That night, I found his old pick-up

    in the parking lot, outside the dance.

I didn’t want to keep the man’s saddle

    so I hauled-off ‘n took me the chance.

 

I hid his saddle in the back of his pick up

    under a tarp, ‘n out of the way.

Folded four twenties, ‘n stuffed– em

    in his dashboard’s empty ashtray.

 

After the dance, that saddle was back in my truck

    with a note he had wrote on a sack.

“we shook hands on  the deal that we made,”

    “you keep it ‘till I pay you back.”

 

I saw him once more, in Las Vegas

    I think it was late ’92.

I told him I still had his saddle

    he said, “good, it’s safer with you.”

 

“if I had it, I’d lose it at poker,”

    “or worse, I’d lose it to pawn.”

“as long as I know that you’ve got it.”

    “it seems like it really ain’t gone.”

 

We shook hands, ‘n nodded, then he turned on his heel

    ‘n he stated to go on his way

Then he stopped ‘n he turned ‘n he said with a grin

     “you hid them twenties in my old truck’s ashtray.

 

That money, it got me to Kansas

    where I had me a pretty fair run

I made me some rides, ‘n picked up some checks

    but never knew where that cash had come from.

 

“Soon as I hit me a good spell

   I’ll be payin’ ya all that you’re due.”

“Just give me a little while longer

    ‘n I’ll be makin’ things even with you.”

  

 

Well, that was the last time I saw him

    but still today, I keep his saddle oiled-up, ‘n ready to ride.

‘Cause if ever he comes by to claim it

    I want him to know it’s been treated with honor ‘n pride.