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THE WAY I SEE IT BY BOB SAN CLEMENTE AKA
"TUMBLEWEED" 1996
(note: this was written for our next door neighbour in San Diego whose
husband and been a good
friend to us and Tumbleweed for many years and passed away not long
after we moved to Durango. I
read it at the friends Memorial Service in San Diego)
Barbara ,Tumbleweeds Mother
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I believe when a man's life comes to an end
He reflects a lot, given the chance....
He's not too caught-up by the music or words,
But instead, he's consumed by the dance.
He considers all those that he's leavin' behind
An' he's hopin' that they'll understand,
'Cause he kept his chin up an' played out his cards
Until the very last hand.
He'll think of his wife, his children, his work
All the love got from family and friend -
These are the things that go thru a mans mind
When his time here has come to an end.
He don't want you weepin', don't want you to mourn,
Heck, he spent his life keepin' ya happy...
So go an' build yourself a good life,
All he asks is "Don't forget Pappy".
Ya see, this man planted many good seeds
An' he's proud that they're all still growin',
An as he prepares to leave this ol' world
He's worried, but still, he's glowin'....
See, in each of us there's a small part of him,
The man had it figured that way -
So his spirit will dwell in each one of us
Until our own final day.
So let's pass along all the things that we learned
From this man that we call our friend,
An' somewhere in the sharing, know
His days will never end...
The things this man has been an' done
Will continue, day by day -
So take comfort in the knowing
That he's never too far away.
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POT ROAST RODEO BY BOB SAN CLEMENTE
AKA "TUMBLEWEED" 1996
Ma hollered "supper's ready"
An' I was ready, too!
So I high-tailed for the kitchen,
Thinkin' biscuits, beans or stew.
Ma had made a pot roast
And the smell was just divine!
But she'd run plumb short of fire
on that P'ticular bovine...
If I'd a brung a rope an' built a loop
We might have et,
But from the shape of things
I thought it best to call the vet.
Pa grabbed his sharpest carvin' knife
An' tried to cut a slice,
The way that roast reacted, well,
It wasn't very nice....
It hopped an' spun an' snorted smoke,
Plumb tore ol' pappy up,
Then thundered thru the kitchen
Bustin' every dish an' cup!
I tried to throw the critter
But I couldn't get a grip -
With no horns, no legs nor tail,
My hands just seemed to slip.
It leaped from chair to table
spillin' everything in sight,
I was fightin' just to stay aboard,
As I couldn't sit him right.
That roast jumped thru a window
An' it lit out down the trail,
With me a'bringin' up the rear,
Slower than the mail.
Well, after seven miles or so
That roast ran out of space,
An' I flung a loop that should'a won
A buckle for first place!
So I finally got a halter
On that wily pot roast beast,
But supper had been spoiled by then,
To say the very least...
Ma tossed it in the oven
As I headed off to bed,
She said "Son, if you're still hungry
I've got tuna fish instead....
Well, I jus' said "no thank ya",
'Tho hungry as before
But just too dad-burn tired
Fer ropin' albacore.
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RAGS WRITTEN BY BOB SAN CLEMENTE AKA
"TUMBLEWEED" 1994
I had a little mustang horse
His name is "Rags to Riches",
He's got a way of buckin' that
Can really dust your britches!
Now "Raggers" has a problem
He's a bit short for a horse
But he's found a way around this
Little handicap, of course.
He stands up on the corral rails
With both of his front fee
Which scares his owner half to death
To say the very least.
"Raggers" cares not much for vets
He likes 'em not one lick
He'll do a little hat-dance thing
Then give the vet a kick.
He runs around in circles
'Til everyone's worn down
Then grabs the vets new stetson hat
And throws it to the ground.
One day this kid come prancin' in
A buckaroo, he said
He'd ride any horse we had
'til that horse was dead.
Little Rags was saddled
So we told him to step inside,
Mary slapped Rags bottom
And he gave that kid a ride.
Rags made off right down the fence
Just like he'd been cued,
The kid grabbed hold the saddle horn
And that mustang came unglued!
Around the arena these two went
The kids face white as snow
Rags finally stopped where Mary stood
Tired of the show.
He said he'd rode some wild stuff
And broke 'em to the saddle
But that was the most dangerous horse
He'd ever been a'straddle.
Mary pointed out the little girl
About ten or eleven
Who'd ridden Rags that very morn
She said "he was pure heaven"
Well, I moved to Colorado
So I could lose my tan
And sold "Rags" to my two good friends,
Jim and Mary Ann
Now Mary says she's pretty smart
When it comes to "Rags to Riches"
She never thought of how much time
She'd spend just sewin' stitches.
Now little "Rags" is just a horse
Not really all that bad
But Jim and Mary got the thought
That maybe they'd been had.
Rags, the mustang, loves to run
Especially down hills
It gives his rider quite a jolt
And lots of thrills and spills.
We call him "Rags, the Crazy Horse"
He's not such a bad sort
We all love his dearly
We love him, but he's short!
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The Swimmin' Lesson
By Bob San Clemente
AKA "Tumbleweed"
1996
I was wranglin' for this dude ranch.
Just a might north of Durango
An' at five A.M. was in no shape
For a two-step or a tango.
"Quicksilver" was my mount this morn,
A plain ol' gelded bay,
But I reckon there was one choice word
The boss "forgot" to say.....
Seems "QS" had a mouth on him
That'd make a dentist run,
But the boss was feelin' mighty bored
An huntin' up some fun.
I brushed "Quick" down, padded up,
Flung a saddle on his back -
He stood there just as nice as pie
An' never did untrack.
Just one loop of latigo
Around the front D ring
(I'd be back in a minute
To tighten up the thing...)
Then strapped the wore-out breast collar
Across the critter's chest,
(We really didn't need it -
Just there for looks I guess....)
I took the bridle, gentle-like,
To guide it up his nose,
But when the bit just touched his lip,
Ol' "QS", he plumb froze!
He quivered for a second
Then he launched off for the stars!
But he only got the rafters
An a couple nasty scars....
I tried to pull the lead rope,
My third an' last mistake -
By now "Quicksilver" had his fill
An' was lookin' for a break!
A backward flip, plumb thru the fence -
Yep, head right over tail!
An' down the bank, into the pond
Where he commenced to flail.....
Ya see, that single D ring loop
Let the saddle loose, by heck!
But the collar (with no center strap)
Swung 'round the hosse's neck....
He tried to swim with the
Soggy saddle hangin' on his chest,
An' shortly he decided
It was time to take a rest.....
He rolled right over on his side
An' give the struggle up,
With me a'standin' on the bank -
As helpless as a pup.
Now bein' a new hand an' all,
I hopped on in, of course -
It wouldn't do to start the day
By drownin' the boss's horse....
So I grabbed hold of the halter
An' I hollered "Come on, Boy!"
An' we stumbled, slipped an'
staggered
From that water with great joy!
We both stood there a'shiverin',
I untied the leather stuff,
Then we headed for the tack shed
Thinkin' each one'd had enough!
'Bout that time the head wrangler
Appeared upon the scene,
He had a look about him
That was fast approachin' mean....
He yelled "where's all them hosses
You was s'posed to jingle up?"
Right then my hopes would not
have wet
The bottom of a cup.
I hollered "see that busted
fence?"
He spun to take a look,
Then muttered "Holy Christmas,
You two went into the brook!"
"Is this hoss alright?" he
queried,
As he's checkin' for a swell -
I told him "Ya Quicksilver's
fine,
But that saddle sure caught
hell....."
Well, the head man was a decent
sort
An' so apologized
He said "Didn't mean to jump so
hard,
I was just a might
surprised....
Looks like both "QS" and you
Will see another dawn."
I said "at least the dadgum
bridle's dry,
I never got it on...."
By then the crew had gathered
An was yukin' up a storm -
Partly just to dodge the chores
An partly to keep warm.
The head man said "Get dry
clothes on,
This day ain't over yet,
We've got fences that need
mendin'
An' you'll have to help the
vet."
It was just his way of thankin'
me
For bein' so darn brave,
But by three o'clock that
afternoon
I felt more like a slave.
Then I seen one wrangler
Take a good-sized party out,
An' one little girl, bringin'
up the rear
On a bay horse, short an'
stout.
I said to the head wrangler
"That little gal sure fits that
horse,
Which one is she ridin'?"
He told me "Quicksilver, of
course...."
As Respect to the late great ' Tumbleweed ' I ask that you refrain
from copying any of these peom's by ' Tumbleweed '...
Designer of this page & tumbleweeds web site
Boxcar Michael :1257/2000
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