Dad
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My Dad was a true cowboy.
He had Sambo, his horse, his favorite toy.
Had had a tractor and his fields he would plow,
Getting up early for chores and milking the cow.
He had barns, corrals, and fences to mend,
But his standards and morals he would never bend.
He loved to hoe weeds and irrigate.
Make water run uphill and build the best gate.
Took pride in how things would look
At night he would always read some book.
Drove cows, tractors, and trucks with trailers.
Worked the fields, combining, plowing and using hay bailers.
Rode horses and punched cows, never riding a bull.
Only to say that bull riding was for a fool.
Raised our own meat, milk, eggs, and crops.
Even had dogs and pigs for pork chops.
He could brand calves, make a loop and rope.
He never would from anyone take any dope.
He was a man, rancher, father and preacher,
That man I call dad was even the best school teacher.
Tired to teach me all he knew when I was a lad.
Don't think I'll ever fill his shoes, My Wonderful Dad.
-Donald Hall
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