The long cold winter finally passed and summer time was nigh.
But the rainy days and muddy corrals stretched clean into July.
Our tent sat near the noisy corral. Yet I never lost much sleep.
‘Cuz my cosey bag put me to sleep before ever counting sheep.
The cook’s alarm rang five a.m. He jolted out of bed.
He woke me from the deepest sleep, along with all the dead.
I gave a scratch, then cleared my throat and wished the day was done.
‘Cuz I’d be shoeing horses till there wasn’t daylight sun.
I hurried to the cook tent. Finished off an egg or two,
and gobbled down three hotcakes. Now I had a job to do.
I moseyed over to the corral and tossed the horses hay.
But looked square in the gelding’s eyes, the hated dapple gray.
The gray was needing horseshoes. He was splayed on every hoof.
But first I had to halter him who’s nearly capture proof.
He didn’t have a horse’s name like Whiskey, Blue or Scratch.
The cowboys named him what he was and called him Hard to Catch.
The dapple gray was easy when it came to nailing shoes.
But his given name was worthy so there wasn’t time to lose.
The gray would skim on top the mud while circling ‘round the corral.
You’d sink up to your ankles then he’d turn and run like the dickens.
Ole Hard to Catch was prob’ly thinking, “Sorry looking fool.
You’ll never catch me in this muck, where Mother Nature rules.”
I heard one older fellar holler, “Go and get your rope.
And make the biggest loop you can, then toss it with some hope.”
I weren’t the best at roping or to throw a lariat.
But Hard to Catch had pushed me to a place he might regret.
So, I walked back to the saddles and I sorted out the gear.
And there I found a cowboy’s rope. He’d gone and left it here.
Hard to Catch was eyeing me and looking full of heck.
But when I tossed the rope it landed sound around his neck!
I don’t know who was more astonished, me or Hard to Catch.
His roguish running ‘round the muddy corral had met its match.
I pulled the loop up tight and led him from the muddy mess.
And nailed the horseshoes fast and left him in a sorry guess.
Ole Hard to Catch still proved his name when other wrangler’s tried.
But I won’t forget the day I roped ole Hard to Catch’s hide.
