Riding the fence line hired men often do
Ensuring the line is straight and it’s true
Off in the distance I saw still and alone
A Saskatchewan Yearling looking sadly toward home
It was easy to see he ate the round kind of bacon
A North country brand, he was shunned by his peers
In the points of the compass this steer was mistaken
I could feel his anxiety as my pony came near
Common it is for Geese and singers and so many others
Head south from the Maple Leaf in search of their dreams
Yet cows should know better than to abandon their colors
For a land where the Cowboy still reigns supreme
A wide berth I gave him, not knowing his pleasure
Wishing him northbound I took his full measure
The last thing I wanted was him charging and wheeling
Edging away from the fence, no options appealing
Armed with some pliers and plan that was shaky
My shadow kept growing as sunset was nearing
As I opened the fence for my Canadian Houdini
He turned toward my horse, sullenly leering
Cutting the fence line while keeping him near
Was a task that may have sped up my heart
I was pushed to a place some people call fear
And the Saskatchewan Yearling was doing his part
I got the fence open, quickly boxing him in
But pawing and snorting the brute was not yielding
Then my horse found a gopher hole quickly testing it’s depth
My next stop was dirt, my backside hardbound
With a thud and a grunt we made a hard landing
My ribs will knit long before my pride is done healing
But, luck, that bovine bolted and ran through the opening
I watched as his backside was fast disappearing
Repairing the fence, with a thought to our neighbors
Mounting, I pointed my pony toward home
Rearranging some details as I ached from my labors
About the grave danger I had just faced alone
Truth is a loop that must bend through the air
The twirl of a lasso marries function with flair
With a fine coil of rope in the right Cowboy’s hand
Any story can bend so it’s a little more grand