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Its Just Our Little Trail To Ride
TALES ACROSS TIME
From Armagh to Arizona
Spirits walk the trail
Voices whisper across the years
Each telling me their tale
Of a warrior and his woman
Walking with love and pride
Living their lives together
She always at his side
Of a young Irish lad
And his lovely Irish Rose
Of a love that spanned an ocean
Till she could be with the one she chose
Of four who walk together
Again in this time
Of the many lives shared before
In many lands and clime
Again they laugh and love
And remember good times past
And know they will meet again
Strong friendships always last
So make up lines, and ring out rhymes
And sing your joyful songs
And side by side ride this trail
Together your hearts belong
Gerry "Casey" Allen © 2005
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Waiting for the Light
It’s quiet as he rises,
makes his way to the kitchen,
Builds a pot of coffee
in the dark before the morn,
Stands on the back porch,
looks at his Cowboy Kingdom,
And savors the perfect Stillness,
as a brand new day is born.
He moves out to the corral,
to his throne upon the top rail,
Seats himself to where,
he can look off towards the East.
He contemplates the North Star,
circled by the big dipper,
Cowboy clock, keeping track,
while all the world’s asleep.
He can see the shapes of cattle,
in the tallgrass of the pasture,
A sliver of a moon,
casting shadows on the ground.
Hears the night bird call,
as the wind begins to stir,
And the soft talking of the horses,
as they begin to move around.
He’ll watch the stars awhile,
pick out the constellations,
Wonders what it’s like,
to ride the Milky Way.
And bear a silent witness
to this solitary moment,
Say a thankful prayer,
as the East begins to gray.
Streaks of light are moving,
dancing bright against the sky,
He feels a little sadness,
at the dimming of the stars.
There’s something holy in the darkness,
that reveals a sacred promise,
That binds us to the earth,
and reminds us who we are.
His cup of coffee finished,
he slides down from the top rail,
Feels fortunate and privileged,
to be part of the dawn.
He smiles into the fading night,
and walks back to the cabin,
Knows without a doubt,
this is just where he belongs.
It’s the best part of the day,
sitting in the darkness,
Knowing in your heart that all is right.
The best part of the day,
sitting in the darkness,
Waiting for the morning and the light.
Gerry "Casey" Allen & Debra Coppinger Hill
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The Revelation
"I saw heaven standing open
and there before me was a white horse…"
Revelation 19:11
I’ve talked to many a good man
facing his own end
And pretty much they all wonder
about the same thing
Will passing thru that final gate
put an end to things we love
Will we all hang up our cowboy rigging
when we see the dove.
And, well I’ve begun to wonder
when I’m called before the throne
And stand and face my deeds on earth
and do my best to atone
As I stand there in Stetson hat
and rusty, bent spurs
Will I be bunched with the righteous
or will I be corralled with the curs.
But, then I’m a wondering,
what about my way of life?
Will I still be a cowboy,
will my way be filled with strife?
Will I have to sell my saddle?
Will I give up my puncher ways?
If I can’t cowboy,
how will I fill up my heavenly days?
But, then I remember reading in Revelation,
chapter 19, eleventh verse
And my heart is filled with happiness,
ain’t no reason now to curse.
Cuz the good book tell us all,
we’ll be cowboying up in paradise
Riding herd for the real King Ranch,
punching cows and doing right.
Cuz it’s written in the Bible,
you all can now stay the course
“I saw heaven standing open
and there before me was a white horse”
So, I’ll grab my old saddle
and swing it up on that critter's back
And ride that heavenly range forever,
me, that white horse and my old kack.
Gerry "Casey" Allen
© July 25, ‘03
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Grass and Water
His name was John Paul Slavens, an old time buckaroo
when he was young, he’d made a hand, knew just what to do.
He had a soft hand with horses, he knew the ways of cow
He treated women like a lady, not like men do now.
He was good with "youngins" and when the work was done
he’d tell a story , spin a yarn, have a little fun.
He was never mean or surly, because he’d come to know
The good book’s always right, we’ll reap just what we sow.
JP worked with us kids, he’d smile the times we’d fail
He’d keep us working and learning, riding the cowboy trail.
And sometimes during the lessons, one of us kids would slip
into a place a cow had been and left her little... "chip".
JP’d laugh when we made a "face" slap his knee a time or two
He’d say, "It’s only grass and water!" as we tried to wipe off that "goo".
Well time moved on, his winter came, I watched Old J.P. die
I know he’s gone to Heaven, riding for the "Boss" in the sky.
Up there the water’s always good, the grass is stirrup high
He’s a happy cowhand, riding in the sweet by and by.
As I’ve traveled down life’s trail, I’ve "slipped" a time or two
And more than once I’ve found myself, "stepping’ in brown goo".
I think back to my childhood with Old J.P. showing me the way
of thinking and working like a cowboy, I can still hear him say;
"It’s only grass and water!" I realize all ain’t lost,
I pick up the pieces, try again, disregard the cost.
The worst probably won’t kill you, tomorrow’s another day,
just pick yourself up, dust yourself off, try different way.
I’ve begun to realize what I wish would go to another
Is just my little trail to ride... It’s all just Grass and Water!
Gerry "Casey" Allen ©
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They Came
They came to us slowly
in ones and twos at first.
They were men with good hearts
and lived with earth as one;
Lived as we live, one with the four legged,
two legged – all the spirits of our world
They brought many things to trade;
knives of iron, that our women treasure,
Thunder sticks that kill from
further that an arrow can fly.
They brought cloth of bright colors
that our women sew into clothes for us.
They brought sugar and tea to change
our diet of buffalo and berries
Then more came.
They came with bad hearts.
They brought firewater.
Our minds were as dizzy as our steps
and the earth danced before our eyes.
The black robes came and gave us their religion.
Strange since they do not practice his teachings.
They brought the spotted sickness
that kills our people.
They came and killed the buffalo
and left the bodies to rot on the earth.
They came like a swarm of insects,
devouring everything in their path.
They came and took our land
and gave us heartbreak.
The sacred hoop is broken
And I cannot go home…
Copyright 2002 Gerry "Casey" Allen
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To hire Cowboy Craic or Bit or Casey, individually, click here to access our electronic press kit:
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Or you may also contact:
Catherine Lilbit Devine
PO BOX 837
Vail, AZ 85641
520-548-3191
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Whispers of the West