Ethelbert in No Man’s Land
up the cutoff trail we wuz ridin’
on ‘at cold November day,
black mesas growing darker;
an’ the clouds a-turnin gray.
we headed straight fer this flat-top
an’ stopped ‘long its southern wall
whar we hitched an’ fed the horses
safe from the wind an’ the squall.
then up ‘at mesa we clambered
an’ under some scrub oak trees
we watched the storm approachin’
an’ commenced to pert’ near freeze.
oh an’ tumbleweeds was a tumbling
lickety-split down the plain!
seemed like hundreds was rollin’
cross the prairie whar once they’d lain.
an’ the sky ahead grew dusty;
an’ the wind blew harder still.
our horses below was a callin’
to see if’n we’d had our fill.
so we watched as long as we dared to
at a sight ‘at few ever saw,
then we scampered offa ‘at flat-top;
a tumbling ourselves down a draw.
now many a year has come callin’
since them days a long time ago,
yet ‘at tumbleweed storm Ire ‘member
as if it was yesterdee tho!
– Jerry Dan Deutschendorf