At five AM we’re frozen as we rise and work out kinks,

We saddle up our horses and we cuss them last few drinks

That we had to have last evenin’ when the world was warm and bright;

Now we shiver as we mount up and we pray for warmin’ light.

 

At six we’ve fanned acrost the land and reached the lower ranch,

We start on up the canyon, gettin’ bit by every branch

Of that nasty manzanita that houses steers ‘n’ cows

An’ we swear next week we’ll chainsaw every one of them damn boughs.

 

By seven we’ve collected all of six ‘n’ twenty head

An’ we’re startin’ to believe t’other two hunnerd must be dead

‘Cause we shurely didn’t miss ‘em as we rode up from below…

Then Mike comes a’wheelin’ by, and on back down we go.

 

As eight o’clock ticks on by we start to roust ‘em out,

Mike’s getting’ pretty nervous (you kin tell by the way he shouts

That “Yer burnin’ too much daylight; them cattle won’t move in the heat!”)

We always work much better when he acts this kind an’ sweet.

 

Nine AM rolls on by ‘midst sweat ‘n’ cuts ‘n’ dust,

We count two-twenty-seven (Mike heard this an’ he cussed),

But we push ‘em towards the runway, right on past Esther Lake,

We figger that one extra is just one we’ll have to take.

 

At ten we hit the new corrals and drive ‘em lowin’ in,

We count two-twenty-seven, then we count ‘em once agin,

‘Cuz it’s makin’ Mike just crazy that the count is one head high

An’ we know it means that, maybe, we let some of his get by.

 

By eleven it’s decided:  we’ll work the bunch on hand

While keepin’ our eyes peeled for the one with a foreign brand;

So we start the separatin’, load the tub and push ‘em through,

An’ every hand’s a’lookin’ for a steer whose tag ain’t blue.

 

Noon comes and goes unnoticed ‘midst the sweat ‘n’ smoke ‘n’ noise,

The ropers take their dallies and they drop ‘em for the boys

Who are brandin’ and castratin’, who are paintin’ an’ givin’ shots,

An’ we all know that extra head is tyin’ Mike in knots.

 

At one we break to grab some chow, we ain’t quite halfway done,

But we’re startin’ to believe that we’ll wrap while there’s still sun;

Connie (once Mike’s better half) sees to it we’re well fed

But she knows it’s gonna git ugly if we can’t ‘splain that extra head.

 

At two we’re back hard at it and we’re movin’ real smooth,

It’s amazin’ how well things can go when we get in the groove

Of ropin’, brandin’, cuttin’, givin’ shots, an’ turnin’ loose,

Then back to start’n over; no mistakes and no excuse.

 

By three we’re wrappin’ up, and it’s time to drive ‘em out,

But we hold for Mike’s instructions while the tally comes about;

Darryl does the countin’, addin’ up them ticks,

Then smiles at us broadly, “It’s two hunnerd twenty-six!”

 

Four o’clock we’re standin’ ’round as, for the umpteenth time,

Mike goes through the tally sheets, as if, somehow, he’ll find

The place where there’s an error, like a twelve that’s an eleven,

So he’ll know fer shure to worry ’cause we worked two-twenty-seven.

 

By five we’ve done ‘least ten more counts, but the answer’s still the same:

Two-twenty-six, an’ so Mike says, “The early count’s to blame.

We must’a been right at the start, but got the first counts wrong.”

We breathe a sigh an’ start to pack; this day has shure been long.

 

At six Mike leaves to check his fence and we call it a day,

We help clean up, then get the truck to trailer my old bay.

An’ what’s inside the trailer?  An untagged no brand steer?!

We all agree to say, when asked, that it wasn’t never here!

 

By seven we’re all cleaned up and sittin’ ’round the fire,

Havin’ just a few more drinks before we all retire,

We’re wonderin’ just what we’ll do when next we round ‘em up,

All knowin’ that we’ll make damn sure we bring a trailer an’ truck.