"THE JAG". . . .  by Jim Hawkins

 

 
Jaguar

 

THE JAG

'Twas in the cold that the YT got sold and times got pretty lean.
I'd been hired here fer near two year, but now I was in between.

I was workin' a fork on a slab o' pork at the café in Buffalo on Main
Set on strollin' when the black smoke come rollin' in with the evenin' train

When this feller steps up from his pickup truck sportin' his ranch's brand
Said he was in town, to run himself down for the winter, a top notch ranchhand

Well, I made a jump from there on my stump and said, "Mister, I'm your man"
"Whatever the bronc that you need stomped, I'm the twister who can!"

He told he hadn't saw fer 10 years his ole' Maw n' fer the holidays was headin' east
She'd begged him home and from here he'd roam to Ol' Virginey and a family feast

He needed a good hand fer to ride fer his brand and just to keep an eye on stuff
I said not to worry and he should sure hurry 'cause 10 years was long enough

I had this feller's shack to lay around on my back when all my chores were done
Every evenin' I sat with his dog and his cat, reading the paper by the setting sun

This chronicle that he got didn't offer a Cowboy a lot & was called the New York Times
It didn't list Angus rates or even deals on stock gates and not a trace of cowboy rhymes

But, I'll tell you without a care 'bout something that I did see there in that daily news
'Twas a little way that I could earn myself some pay, 30,000 bucks that I could use

Now, I have to admit, plum crazy 'twas a bit, but appeared there in black and white
"A four year old Jaguar, a rare find near or far, looking for a home just right"

Well, just the thought of some fool who bought for 30,000, an overgrown cat
Got me to thinkin' & schemin', plannin' & dreamin' right there where I sat

Now I know you can't find no jaguars of that kind livin' here in these Big Horn hills
But, surely a bobcat or mountain lion or somethin' like that would do for 30,000 bills

So, I set out to hunt, forsakin' the deal I made up front, for that varmint I could sell right
Fer with just one catch, 30,000 could I fetch & my problems would be plum out o' sight

Now, I'd only seen that critter in a dream, but I'd sure heard 'em out in the dark
But my mind was a churnin' & my flame was a burnin', lit with 30,000 little green sparks

I built traps at night and I'd slip in 'fore daylight and set 'em out to end his day
Then I'd sit atop a hill, firin' my tranquilizer gun at will, prepared to lay him away

But, my dad-burned prey that kept me up night and day, he never even showed
On this chase, my wages had gone to waste & my savings had all been blowed

'Fore I know, Spring had melted the snow and the boss was back from the East
The days and nights had flown by me right while I was chasin' that sorry beast

The boss didn't mind 'bout the lack of work to find that I just never did get done
He was feelin' pretty spry, he'd made himself quite a buy, while on his back east run

Says he, "Come on 'round and sit right down,  Let me tell you what I have to show"
"She's a sleek European beauty and a real back-east cutie and cost me a pile of dough"

Well, we ate a big ole' steak and then he says, "Let's take a walk on out to the barn"
"I found me something to get and I'll lay you a bet, you ain't never seen one on a farm"

Well, he opens the barn door n' I can't see no more, 'cuz she's a shinin' from near to far
'Tweren't no cow nor horse nor truck of course, why it was just some ole' car

Now, she had the bells and whistles to tell and was pretty dolled up, I'd say
But where in the land would the saddle stand and how would you ever haul hay?

There weren't but 'bout two seats and no place a'tall for size 12 feet in that floor to go
I couldn't figure how he'd gotten much now for handin' over his pile o' dough

'Bout then, he sets me straight on his purchase so great and rocked me back on my heels
When he went & told 'bout how he'd stole this 4 year old Jaguar for 30,000 bills!
                                                                       Jim Hawkins
                                                               © 2004

(All rights reserved. This poem may not be used in any manner without the permission of Jim Hawkins.)

About the author.......JIM HAWKINS

 Jim Hawkins
 

      sJim Hawkins (pictured above) was raised in a small agricultural community located in  north-central North Carolina called Ellisboro.  It was named after his great-great-grandfather, Ellis Roberts, who first homesteaded here in the 1800's.   Jim says that  the focus of  this ancestor was on acquiring land and lots of it, raising fine beef cattle, good using horses and tobacco; that in a fairly short time he and his son (Hawkins great-grandfather), Walt, became  the largest land owners for miles around. 
 
          Today,Hawkins spends part of each year living on this  North Carolina farm. It is just over the hill from the site of his great-great grandfather's original home.  Hawkins spends the remainder of the year in Montana & Wyoming.  He raises and trains Foundation & Performance ranch horses; and he leads pack trips in the mountains of North Carolina, Virginia & Tennessee.  Hawkins has many  good friends in Montana and Wyoming who also raise and train fine horses.  He goes out each year to ride and camp with them for a spell: and he usually hauls some young horses back to North Carolina to work into his program there.

       What inspired  Jim Hawkins to write and recite cowboy poetry ?  Here's what he said:
 

        "For many years, the poems and stories I wrote would come to me at all different times; and I'd be writing down notes to get the stories started on feed sacks and the backs of receipts from the local tack store and such.  I once wrote an entire poem on the back of my bidder card at a horse sale in Great Falls, MT.  It just started coming at me and coming together and before I knew it........there it was! 
 
        Funny thing though, now lookin' back.........I never really thought much about sharing these stories with a big ol' bunch o' folks.  Not to flatter myself here at all, ya' understand, but I felt a bit like Ian Tyson, pre-Cowboyography.  By that I mean, I had a tight-knit group of Cowboy friends that knew of my writing and reciting and most of what I wrote involved them and was only shared with them.  They would regularly ask me to write one for an occasion and such and I would try to do that.  Then, when someone was having a birthday, wedding, funeral, organized ride, branding, you-name-it, some pard would ask me to come spin a few.  I'd oblige and just have a ball.  Everyone seemed to really like it and I sure did. 
 
       I love to write, but I've found that it all really comes to life for me when I get to share them with a good bunch o' folks.  I just never really stopped to think about doin' much with it until I got to know some other mighty fine poet pards, and they started to spur me on.  So this year, really for the first time, I'm working on trying to tote my part o' the load in representing the art and the tradition in the very best way that I can and as often as I can."

 

           Judging from "THE JAG"  I'd say he certainly does,  in a most witty and humorous manner, " tote his part of the  load in representing the cowboy art and the tradition". Casey's Corral is proud to feature Jim Hawkins.  He is going to try and catch a few gatherings this year ; He is currently slated to participate for the first time in the National Cowboy Poetry Rodeo in September in Hot Springs, SD, and also the Montana Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Lewistown, MT in August.  I'll be looking forward to seeing him perform in Lewistown.
                                                                                                 Wacobelle, Webmaster.

                You can  contact Jim  by e-mail:     waltrobertsfarms@yahoo.com

 

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