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.