Sunday, December 21, 2014

Sunday Stories: With His Throw Rope He May

My mother turned 80 in 2014 and my gift to her was creating a genealogy book. It got all of us talking about the past and going through old keepsakes. My mother found this poem, published on Thursday, February 13, 1975. I'm guessing it was in the North Platte Telegraph, but it could have been in the Sutherland Courier-Times.

Poem of Yesterday Awakens Old Memories

(The introduction reads) This poem was sent to me by Herman Fischer of Hastings, Nebraska, he had found the poem in Grandma Spear's scrapbook about 7 years ago and thought maybe some of the old Sandhillers would enjoy reading it. Some of the people still live in the west part of the county. Grandma Spear was 97 when she died. They lived in Laramie, Wyoming.

WITH HIS THROW ROPE HE MAY

By Nels Fields, March, '36

In the Sandhills of Nebraska,
Where diamond rattlers grow,
There's the stream they call the Birdwood,
And its rippling waters flow.

Swiftly its winding channel,
To the stream they call the Platte.
'Tis the home of white face cattle,
Boot, spur and broad-rimmed hat.

Where you meet the jolly cowboy,
As he rides forth on his hoss.
And the stern faced ranch foreman,
Whom the cowboys call the boss.

The cowboys know their ponies,
And they know their cattle well.
For each critter wears its owner's brand,
That's how they all can tell.

Lew Cogger brands Bar Seven,
John Harshfield the Diamond.
You see the cattle carrying brands,
Every age and sex.

Some split the burlap,
While others mark the ear.
Fred Seifer merely puts
A plain "S" on the rear.

The Field boys have the Bow Tie brand,
They know just where they are.
They know Bill Dikeman's cattle,
When they see the Diamond Bar.

Nels Field has no cattle,
But he has a field of corn,
And if his old throw rope don't bust,
He'll have cattle before the morn.

Locals will recognize many names in this poem. My Grandfather is the Fred Seifer mentioned.

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