Monday, January 9, 2012

Thanksgiving Goose

This cowboy poem is an experience from the life of our Grandpa Seth Baird
It is especially touching since he wasn't a church going man most of his life.

Written and Shared at Thanksgiving 2011 by Uncle Russ



"Thanksgiving Goose"

I member the tellin of a tale long ago
bout a time when the money it was comin in real slow.
and a cowboy was worried bout what to feed to his young brood
for Thanksgivin was a comin and thin was the food.

He had four little young uns in the farm house plus a wife
for a plump roasted turkey he'd near trade up his life.
He fussed and he fretted over what he could feed
to the kiddies and the Mrs. who looked to him for their need.

The cupboards were short of preserves and of jams
no turnips, no carrots and no country ham.
He figured that biscuits and beans just might be
the dinner his family on Thanksgiving they would see.

He kept a straight face as the day it drew near,
did the chores with a smile and tried to keep up the cheer.
Sure would have been nice to have somthin to sell
like some steers or some hay but that year hadn't been swell.

If only the weather had been kinder last Spring,
to allow for the plantin and a harvest to bring.
but the snow and the cold had hung on around
that the seeds they were late gettin into the ground.

The summer was short so the grain and the hay
didn't flourish as they had in a far brighter day.
Just enough grew for the cow and the hens
to have a little feed and some straw for the pens.

There was milk from their cow and a few eggs in the barn
but to eat one of the chickens their future meals they would harm.
There had to be somethin this old hand could do
so his kids and his wife might have a Thanksgiving stew.

On the eve of the feast day he knelt down near his cot
and called on the big man to share some of his thoughts
"Dear Lord I know my way's ain't always been pleasin,
to hear my petitions I hain't giv'n much reason.

For my habits and cursins I'm not particularly proud
It's likely yur wondr'n if it's my head here that's bowed.
but I want ya ta hear that it's you who I owe
thanks for the blessins ya'v given me here down below.

Got me four rowdy kids and a right fine good wife
got my health, got my land and in my house there's little strife.
There's the Sun when it's settin out over the hills,
there's my roll with it's blanket to keep out the chills.

There's a team in the barn that will pull hard all day
and the tack and the wagon to bring in the hay.
Got my faith in this country where all who live free
can pray as they wish and enjoy liberty.

I don't deserve Father here all that is mine
and reckon it's you I should thank more oft times.
For me I'm not askin that a miracle you send
but for mama and the kiddies I'm worried on end.

Ain't nothin but biscuits, eggs and milk from the stable
to set out before us on the Thanksgiving day table.
That's fine for most days when we toil mornin till night
but Thanksgivin without Turkey, that jus don't seem right.

Anyway, we'll get by here cause I know that yur there
thanks again for a listnin ta this cowboy's prayer.
And with that he laid down his tired head for the night
an dreamed of better times without so much plight.

When a bang and a thump woke him up from his slumber
sounded like a train just dumped a load full of lumber.
He pulled on his boots and then ran to the door
to see what was the ruckus that ended his night's snore.

Out in the yard something flopped round all a loose
when his eyes got more focused he spied a great goose.
Seems it got itself lost in flight with his flock
and pasted the roof top then fell like a rock.

The cowboy he grabbed it by the neck with a grin
and ran through the doorway to the kitchen within.
He plucked it and seasoned the bird for good flavor
then raised up his head and said thanks to his Savior.

The dawn came and mamma rose up from her bed
"From where is that wonderful smell comin" she said.
Then the kids came to greet her with the news of a beast
that hit their rooftop, but now provided a great feast.

And the cowboy he never forgot that dark night
when the great bird who was wanderin had ended its flight.
"Dear Lord", he prayed daily, "please help me to be
always most thankful and more like unto thee."

Russ Baird
Nov 6, 2012

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