Bruce Kiskaddon

Judgment Day

 Next Poem          

Once I dremt while I was sleepin’
That the earth had passed away,
And the boss of all creation
Made a work on Judgment Day,
They was folks of every color
They was folks of every breed
And they cut’ em into bunches
"Cordin’ to their race and creed.

Top hand angels done the cuttin’
They knowed how to handle things,
Some would change and help the others
While they’d smoke and rest their wings.
And I seed a bunch of fellers
They was holdin’ on the side.
Grazin’ soter loose and easy
And the angels workin’ wide.

He had judged and classed the others
By a book of rules he used,
Then he called out to the angels
"Now bring on the buckaroos!"
Angels bunched and shoved ‘em forward,
Some surprised but not dismayed.
Amblin’ up to face the judgment
Came that grizzled wild brigade.

Each one pulled his hat on tighter
That they done from habit’s force,
It’s a trick of most rough riders
When they mount a buckin’ horse.
Some was young and some was older,
Some walked with a limpin’ stride.
Some still had the high healed boots on
They was wearin’ when they died.

They all stood in line to answer
Fer the way they’d spent their days.
And they faced the boss of Heaven
With a cool and level gaze.
And the boss of all creation
Give them boys a kerful look,
And sez to a top hand angel,
"Bring me out that range law book."

Well, I turned and asked an angel
Why the judgment book was changed,
And they judged that bunch of cow boys
By the laws that ruled the range.
And he answered very solemn
That the reason was because
You could never judge a cow boy
By another feller’s laws.

Next Poem 

 Back to
Bruce Kiskaddon