by Paul Harwitz

I want to live in the West and die in the West,
Savoring the life that I love the best.
I don’t want to be shoehorned into some giant city
Filled with pollution and crime, but without any pity.

I need wide open spaces, not skyscrappers forlorn.
I want to see unspoiled Nature when I get up each morn.
I want to live among people who respect the land,
And respect each other, and give a helping hand.

I want to enjoy untrampled prairies and untamed streams.
I want to live among friends who know what it means
To see wild creatures living free instead of behind bars.
I want to live where people ride horses instead of cars.

I want to live free out West, where my soul isn’t in pawn.
I don’t want to go somewheres else and high muck-a-muck it.
I want to die with my boots on,
So I won’t hurt my toe when I kick the bucket.

Paul Harwitz is a poet who work and teachings celebrate the multi-ethnic and multi-cultural diversity of the West.

Links

• Please visit Raucous Ranch for more cowboy poetry. Mr. Harwitz has set aside part of his web site to provide teachers with instructional materials which help to bring the history, culture and literature of the North American West into the classroom.
• You can also see some of Mr. Harwitz’s poetry posted at www.cowboypoetry.com.

© Paul Harwitz, 1998. All poems are copyright the artist and should not be reproduced without permission.

by Bob E. Lewis (1929-2001)

I was trying to find an old chuck wagon,
I was trying to make a good deal,
I found one out on the old Hashknife ranch,
All there but one hindermost wheel.
(Borrowed that phrase from J.B. Allen)

They said they quit using it some time ago,
It had been sitting right there ever since,
Their cowboys all wanted house cooking to eat,
And not have to build anymore fence.

They had no idea where that wheel had gone,
What would anyone do with a wheel.
They found it all fastened up on the wall good and tight,
In those spokes there was wet muddy boot heels.

There was many a times you came in soaking wet,
Those old boots would really stick tight,
You could pull, you could grunt, cuss and throw fits,
Those old boots stayed with all of their might.

You could stick your boot in the fork of those spokes,
Job the heel down hard to the core,
All you had to then, was to lean back and grin,
And that old boot would slip down to the floor.

Needless to say I left that old wheel where it was,
Fastened up on that old bunkhouse wall,
For if I had of taken that wheel home with me,
I’d still be hiding out come next fall.

Many thanks go to Mr. Bob E. Lewis, known as America’s leading bootnik poet.

Links

• Please visit Rafter “L” Ranch to read more Bob Lewis poetry…and that of his friends. This website has the unique feature of posting many of the poems in audio-format.

© Bob E. Lewis, 1999. All poems are copyright the artist and should not be reproduced without permission.

by Dwight Burgess

Although I don’t have cows anymore,
I still wear my cowboy boots.
So I guess they’re not just worn,
By cowboys, but also other galoots.

I’ve walked into a church in the city,
And started lookin’ around for my seat.
It didn’t take long to see I’m alone,
With cowboy boots on my feet.

My brother wears patent leather oxfords,
And he really hollers and hoots.
Whenever I walk into his house,
Wearing my cowboy boots.

Now if a fella’s wearin’ his sneakers,
He can run like a man with the scoots.
But he’d better not have too far to run,
If he’s wearin’ his cowboy boots.

I got rid of all my cattle,
In the spring of Eighty-Four.
Since the price hasn’t gone down,
I haven’t bought any more.

I’ve seen my share of horses,
And the work they could get done.
But now I’d rather drive my pick-up,
And leave the horses to my son.

I gave my son a saddle,
And an old gun that hardly shoots.
But one thing I won’t give away,
Is my right to wear cowboy boots.

Some people might not understand it,
But there is one thing that I crave.
When I go home to be with my Lord,
I’ll wear my boots to the grave.

I hope it won’t be right away,
Cause there’s so much left here to do.
But when I do go I won’t be surprised,
If Saint Peter is wearin’ ’em too.

Dwight Burgess is a cowboy poet living and farming in Wamego, Kansas.

Links

• Visit Dwight Burgess’ homepage, to read more of his work.
• The work of Dwight Burgess also appears in The International Poetry Hall of Fame.

© Dwight Burgess, 1992. All poems are copyright the artist and should not be reproduced without permission.

by Bob E. Lewis (1929-2001)

My wife and I were traveling across the upper Texas Plains,
When we came upon a small town there in the middle of nowhere.
We got out of that ole pickup truck just to stretch our legs a bit.
We decided we’d walk thru this town and take a look at it.

I saw a store down the street that really caught my eye,
It was the store of an old bootmaker and he was making that leather fly.
He had boots of every kind a sitting on the shelf,
Some belonged to customers and some were for himself.

He had one pair a sitting there that really caught my eye,
They had the underslung riding heel and the tops were really high.
I knew I had to have a pair before I left this town,
I looked over at my wife and she was wearing a great big frown.

I slipped that ole pair boots on and they fit just like a glove except
The tops were kinda high and were as tall as to my knee.
My wife said I don’t mean to tell you what to do you know,
But I don’t think at your age your legs are gonna grow.

I scratched my head and said to her as I chewed on my cigar,
Now these tops, they ain’t too tall mama, I just clumb down in’em too far.

Bob E. Lewis passed away April 24, 2001. He will be missed by me, and many others. There is a very nice tribute to Mr. Lewis posted by the folks at cowboypoetry.com.

Mr. Lewis dedicated his award winnning poetry web page “to all men and women who ever saddled an old horse and spent time working with cattle and horses”. His Rafter “L” Ranch remains full of good heart-felt poetry…and more web links.

Links

• Please visit Rafter “L” Ranch to read more Bob Lewis poetry…and that of his friends. This website has the unique feature of posting many of the poems in audio-format.

© Bob E. Lewis, 1998. All poems are copyright the artist and should not be reproduced without permission.

by Jerry Jeff Walker

Well…if you’re ever in Austin, Texas, a little run down on your sole.
I’m going to tell you the name of a man to see,
I’m going to tell you right where to go.
He’s working in Capital Saddlery. He’s sewing in the back of the place.
He’s old Charlie Dunn, the little frail one with the smilin’ leathery face.

Charlie Dunn, he’s the one to see.
Charlie Dunn boots that are on my feet
It makes Charlie real pleased to see me walkin’ with ease…
Charlie Dunn, he’s the one to see.

Well…Charlie’s been making boots over there,
he says about 50 some odd years.
Once you wear a pair of handmade boots,
you’ll never wear a store-bought pair.
Charlie can tell what’s wrong with your feet, just a feelin’ them with his hands.
He can take a look at the boots your wearin’
…and know a whole lot about the man.

Charlie Dunn, he’s the one to see.
Charlie Dunn boots that are on my feet
It makes Charlie real pleased to see me walkin’ with ease…
Charlie Dunn, he’s the one to see.

Now Buck’s up front he’s accountin’ up his gold.
Charlie’s in the back patchin’ up a sole.
There are other people coming in smilin’ at him,
…they all wonder how’s old Charlie’s been.
Old Buck’s a makin’ change, he never sees no one.
He never understood the good things Charlie done.

Yeah, old Charlie never had his name on the sign.
He never put a mark in a boot.
He just hopes that you can remember him the same way that he does you.
He keeps your measurements in this little book,
…so you can order more boots later on.
Well, I’m writin’ down some on Charlie’s size, ’cause I’m makin’ him a song.

Charlie Dunn, he’s the one to see.
Charlie Dunn boots that are on my feet
It makes Charlie real pleased to see me walkin’ with ease…
Charlie Dunn, he’s the one to see.

Yeah, old Bucks a makin’ change, never sees no one
…and he never understood the good thing Charlie done.

Rumor has it…it was this song, that inspired Lee Miller to make boots. Lee Miller came to Austin, Texas to apprentice for Charlie Dunn when his shop first opened, in 1977. Charlie taught Lee his own way of making boots, including the secret-how-to’s of shop specialties, like interlaced monograms and mirror lettering. Lee and his wife Carrlyn bought the shop in 1986, and have since carried on Chalie Dunn’s work at Texas Traditions. Charlie Dunn’s friends sang this song at his funeral, in 1993….Lee Miller says, “Charlie loved that song.”

Links

• Click here to listen to Jerry Jeff Walker sing a small piece of Charlie Dunn. (You can by a copy of the album, Great Gonzos online from imusic.com.)
• Visit Jerry Jeff Walker’s homepage.
• Take a look at the Virtual Texan photo album. (This webpage includes photos of both Jerry Jeff Walker, and the Texas Traditions bootshop.)

© Jerry Jeff Walker, 1972.