The Scourge of the West

The natural world, they say, has been a source of inspiration for poets throughout history.

A lot of poetry is based on our life experiences and observations in nature.

My short lived summer as a cowboy inspired my first ever poem.

It was during the summer of 1958, I was still a teenager, and I had been hired to help a young rancher gather cattle, so he could run them through a dipping vat, vaccinate and deworm them.  

That was the year I discovered I was allergic to poison oak…

It was a hot summer in the Sierra foothills -- most days were near 100 degrees -- and where ever my body came in contact with my saddle, there wasn't a spot that didn't have a swollen itchy red rash.  

I spent every night sittin' in a tub full of watered-down bleach, but nothing helped and I had to quit my cowboy job because it was too painful to ride.

Later that year I got a series of shots and never again got a reaction to poison oak.

My hat’s off to working cowboys who have no choice other than to ‘cowboyup’ and work through it.

 The Scourge of the West

I am the scourge of the West

More outrageous than the rest

I will creep along the canyon floor

Till I come knocking at your cabin door

And then to you it will be no joke

For you see my name is poison oak

© Jerry England