With ten more miles of wire
my horse wants to turn back
There’s dark clouds over the mountain
just a small tent in my sack
The fence line sits all busted
from two bulls that went astray
They both missed being neutered
last year on roundup day
My hands are cold and blistered
that salve jar all but gone
Two wolves begin to howling
that lonesome prairie song
The storm clouds now have thickened
light pulls its covers back
Just one more night on the western slope
—with eight miles left to track
‘From The ‘Searching For Crazy Horse Collection’”
‘Read In Elko Years Ago’
