Pony Express Rider
Category: Writing and Poetry
I am now 17, and for the last 2 years I’ve been riding this horse delivering mail, because no family is left to give a damned if I am grown.
Riding 75 miles at a stretch sitting in this saddle,
Dodging indians, crooks, bullets, and snakes that have a dangerous rattle,
Riding fast on at least five horses on every trip,
Through thunderstorms, heat, bugs and dust storms with winds that threaten to rip,
Why did I start riding for the mail,
All I remember is that my family died during a storm that deleveloped a devil’s tail,
Afterwards I quit school because of an ugly ol’ school marm,
So I ran away, because my old life held no charm,
And I made my way west,
Doing odd jobs and trying my best,
Then saw a sign that said they wanted orphens, with no family and no friends,
That’s how I ended up with a saddle hardened rear end,
Not this job is coming to an end because the iron horse is cutting across this land,
Not sure what I will do, but for now I’ll rest for my next ride for the Pony Express, so please excuse me as I nap in the sand.
