Tale of a wild Mustang that became the most loved on the Ranch.

Mustang Blue
Ser-reep--ee Hi and On –the-Fly, I knew it must be true !
With his tail held high and a whistling neigh,
It’s surely Mustang Blue!

Well, the killers missed him in their sweep, Of the Mesa Leaning Tree,
And pushed the herd to a canyon deep, In a mountain close to me,

Well, I went their way , and I heard them say,
There’s a colt we failed to drive, He’s a striped cuss, and he cut’s a fuss,
But today’s his last alive!

A shot was fired , but missed it just, and before the smoke was through,
With a snorting gust and a cloud of dust, went the tail of Mustang Blue,’

Now, I heard tell, that Franklin Dell, a feller with a horse or two,
Took his mare mule Belle to the water a spell
And trapped ol’Mustang Blue!’

Now, being a kinda curious Clyde, With an extra check , I drew,
I took a ride to the Country side , to eye this Mustang Blue!

Ol’ Blue was standing alone and flat, In dung up to his knee,
But , I reckon he’d got used to that , Since hauled in from the free,

There’s something about that lonely look, a story of saddened end!
A forlorn figure, which easily took, The heart of this ol’ friend,

I felt the ol’boy knew dang well, That in a bit or two,
I’d shuffle and grumble around a spell, But in the end, come through.

Sure as shootin, with a biddin eye, And bucks an extra few,
I waved a hand of fifty by, And wound up, owning Blue.

I reckon a feller should watch his word, Or better still, listen too,
Cause thirty woulda easy covered this bird, So twenty , I just blew

Whilst, I bemoaned this grievous loss, Ol’Blue just aired his hide,
First he’d roll and then he’d toss The dust from both his sides

Now to load a horse for transport, It’s said you mix compassion,
With two soft ropes for comfort, And hay of grade “A” fashion.

Now blue he eyed this loadin chute, And stood his ground feet planted,
While who you reckon with words to boot, Just pulled and raved and ranted!

Well cussin don’t help toiling, But before the job was through,
The dust was high and boiling And all the air was blue!

Yep!, Homeward bound, ol’Blue in pen, And I’m feeling I can gloat,
When home I meet ol’Frankie King, With a, “Where’d you get this goat?”

Now the finer points of conformation, I agreed it’s hard to see,
With Mustang transformation, There just ain’t no guarantee!

But the head was kinda set on right,
And the front legs straight and true , His hips and tail was a sorry sight,
But they were Mustang too!

I had a feeling, that Blue in time, Would take a turn with me,
A rolling sweat and a lotta grime, Before the light he’d see!

Well time, and toil and trouble, Shoulda helped this stalwart steed,
But for all the work and training rubble, He still looked like Dog Feed!

No one would ever think this sorry critter, Could ever make his way,
But time showed him to be no quitter He learned to earn his pay!

My Daughter thought him quite a joke, Till after her first ride,
Then when she saw him easy broke, She changed and took his side!

He took to water like a duck, And pulled like a heavy pair,
He hauled more wood than a pickup truck, And never turned a hair!

I’m sure there’s horses other’s own That are solid and honest too,
But none I’ve seen can stand alone, With a heart as big as Blue!

So, if money’s short for feed this fall,
All my horses of bloodlines true ,
Will hit that Sale Yard , papers and all,
Long before ol’Blue!

  tom leftwich © 2016