Movies and popular songs leave indelible impressions upon young minds. This is so today and it was no less so when I was a youngster. I was heavily influenced by such stars as Gene Autry and Roy Rogers. In my imagination I would identify with them, longing to ride the range as they did, singing melodic songs as they sang, and winning the admiration of some pretty girl, like they did. Fortunately, reality always won out, for necessity pulled me back to the job at hand.
In my early teens I was hired out to a local farmer where I did work with horses. These were not the riding kind, but heavy draft horses which pulled wagon or plow. I often did day dream about Gene and Roy but the only thing I may have had in common with them was that I too sang a lot. With nobody around in a wide open field, enjoying the rapport between man and beasts, it seemed natural to give way to joyful song.
I have often thought about those early years. Hard work? Yes. But there was something wholesome about life on the farm. I tried to capture a bit of my fantasies here in the poem below.
PLOW -BOY’S DREAM
Refrain
I’m a cowboy on the prairie
And I sing an age old song
About a girl I want to marry
Now I’m riding, bound for home.
He was a plow-boy, not a cowboy
Yet dreamed to ride the grand prairie
Like the famed cowboys Gene and Roy.
Of their songs he never grew weary.
And so he dreamed and sang:…
REFRAIN
He was a plow-boy. Barely fourteen,
Not much of the world he had seen.
But he had seen Roy Rogers and Gene
With guitar, singing on the big screen.
And so enamoured he sang:….
REFRAIN
He was no cowboy. Just a plow boy.
Who’d never been away from home.
The boss’ Clydesdales gave him joy
As they turned the sods to crumbly loam
And while he plowed he sang:…
REFRAIN
Plow boy he was, teamster at best.
The Clydes drew wagons topped with hay
He fed them oats, then let them rest.
It was his last chore of the day.
And walking home he sang:…
REFRAIN
The boy steadfastly faced each day
Feeding and harnessing the Clydesdales
So he could earn another day’s pay.
But remembering the songs and tall tales
He again dreamed and sang:…
REFRAIN
He was a plow-boy, not a cowboy
Yet he dreamed to ride the vast range
Like the famed cowboys Gene and Roy.
But loving the Clydes he dared not change
And sadly concluded:…
FINAL REFRAIN
I’d love to ride the grand prairie.
But the Clydes I can’t leave alone.
To see them makes me so merry
Only wished they both were my own.
Village Peasant April 23, 2010
Tags: boyhood dreams, early farm life, fantasy, poem, song
