The Call of the Open Range
The wild west wasn’t tamed by sitting still—it took courage to follow the horizon.
At Rodeo Ranch, the dust clouds swirl,
A whirlwind of laughter, a raucous whirl.
With bucking broncos and clowns galore,
Each drop of a hat opens up the door.
Old Billy Joe in sequined vest,
Tried lassoing goats–he thought he was blessed.
But ropes went flying, and chaos took flight,
As critters dashed off into the night.
The barrels roll like tumbleweeds,
While young cowhands giggle, urging their steeds.
A pie fight erupts near the dancing fire,
As wild laughter rises, never to tire.
When the sun dips low, and shadows creep,
The tales of mischief, in memories, keep.
For zany adventures at Rodeos heart,
Are stories of joy that will never depart.
Copyright © 2024 Randy Salars
All rights reserved
All rights reserved