For my Grandpa, My Dad, and My Uncle, With Love!
No wranglers or boots could be found in the bunch
But they worked just as hard, straight through their lunch
Getting cows ready, so everyone would know
When they come in the fall, to which home they would go
They separate the calves away from their moms
While running and jumping with “hey’s” and “haw’s”
When they’re done, gate closed, it’s time to move on
Wait, one more calf is hiding behind its mom
They’re pressed to the corner like sardines in a tin
Then pushed in a row, they hate to get in
Stories are told throughout the whole day
“We used to jump ‘em, and hold ‘em, and cut ‘em away”
Then with a shock and a poke, the cow jumps in the chute
Then hurry, do your work, avoid the loose poop
The cow’s are no match for these burley men
They cut ‘em and tag ‘em and rubber band wrap ‘em
Let loose to the field, the work is now done
It’s a wonder to watch a father, and two sons
The work is a science after years of the same
Stories and laughter, and memories are gained
Love this poem about Grandpa, Dad and Uncle Jan. Great Work.