Rex

His name was Rex Thill, his horse was Whiskey Bill,

  few could match his skill, or his poker iron will.

Grew up in the Breaks, chasin’ Rattlesnakes,

  no matter the stakes, Rex had what it takes.

Rode a horse to school, learned the Golden Rule,

  didn’t truck no fool, stubborn like a mule.

Pretty soon he’d go, to ride the rodeo,

  a tough row to hoe, put on quite a show.

Wolf Point or Cheyenne, winnin’ was the plan,

  all should understand, he’s a rodeo man.

Drew a bull named Arbuckle, he just gave a chuckle,

  held the rein bare knuckle, and won that silver buckle.

Never showed no fear, of hittin’ his nadir,

   drinkin’ his Hamms beer, to get a little cheer.

Came time to settle down, he moved on in to town,

  never had a frown, a man of some renown.

The GN had a job, bought a watch and fob,

  pushed the throttle knob, and made that engine throb.

Three kids and a wife, made us a damn good life,

  troubles they were rife, but he handled all the strife.

Had a house on Mahon, it even had a lawn,

  Midnight freight he’d drawn, comin’ home at dawn.

He cowboyed just for fun, when his railroad days were done,

  with the buckles that he’d won, the city life he’d shun.

He was after Boyce’s cattle, when he fought his final battle,

  sittin’ in the saddle, one last horse to straddle.

Been gone now fifty years, I’m gonna’ shed some tears,

  of cowboy cavaliers, he hardly had no peers.

LDT December 26, ‘22

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