Sandman's Journal

This coming weekend I'll be spinning a couple of rhymes at the Dakota Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Medora. I'll include a poem that my late granduncle Chris Sand wrote, "Summer of the Government Roundup." In a sense, it's a collaboration between him and me, because I altered it a bit to make it flow better aloud.

The poem takes place in 1929, when Uncle Chris was working along Wolf Creek on the Fort Peck Reservation in Montana. He meets two Indian cowboys who teach him a trick for taming a wild horse:

O, they roped 'im, threw 'im, and tied 'im
Put a pinch of black dust in each eye
And when they released him, he'd lost all his starch
And to drive him was easy as pie

Mostly the poem is a poignant reminiscence of Uncle Chris' (and Grandpa's) younger days, as in the final verse:

I'll always remember that summer
I think of it still in my dreams
I'll never get over my days as a drover
Or the flavor of Shorty's baked beans

I'm hoping that Grandpa will join me on stage to share a couple of his government roundup memories. He balks at the idea, but I think Dad and Grandma will talk him into it.