Well, it’s dog days in the feedlot

now that summer’s nearly done

I been loafin’ through the cattle

but the steers don’t suffer none

They don’t need much waterin’, really,

they just eat and drink and snooze

Like a bunch of fat ol’ bankers

On an all expense paid cruise

We’re not gettin’ many feeders,

not since summer took the bait

Guess the order buyer’s coastin’,

I been told they hibernate!

Half the crew’s been on vacation,

I took mine way back in June

Whoa! Better ride a little slower,

I might finish way too soon!

All the sick pens dang near empty,

‘cept a few ol’ chronic pets

So I pull the odd puffed-up one,

helps to justify the vets

But mostly I just check the pens

if there ain’t no fats to ship.

And I do some contemplatin’,

ain’t nobody cracks the whip

But my cowboy intuition

says enjoy it while you can

‘Cause a thunderhead is buildin’

that will change the battle plan

When the dog days in the feedlot

will have finally run their course

And the fall’ll bear down on us

like she’s ridin’ Hell’s own horse!

Baxter Black is a cowboy poet, former large animal veterinarian and entertainer of the agricultural masses. As he puts it, “he has a narrow following, but it’s deep!” He resides in Benson, Arizona. Additional information about him can be found at baxterblack.com.