By Dan "Doc" Wilson
“Mmm… boy! Thet shore ‘nuf hit the spot!”
The wrangler smacked his lips and sighed,
Then eased into the campfire’s glow,
With thoughts that left him mystified.
He nudged the waddie by his side
To settle what was on his mind.
“Say whut’s the diff’rence, do yuh know,”
‘Twixt cowboy brew and reg’lar kind?”
The waddie shrugged and then he saw
The cow-camp cook across the way
Among the morning pots and pans
A-rattling in the brand new day.
The cowboy passed the question on,
The coosie sure was bound to know.
“Say, whut’s the diff’rence now,” he said,
‘Twixt cow camp brew and store-bought joe?
While bacon sizzled in the pan,
Its crisp aroma filled the air.
“There’s all the diff’rence in the world!”
The range cook stated with some flair.
He turned the flapjacks with a flick
And thought he’d have a little fun.
“We makes our coffee on the range
With extra care until she’s done.
The special beans we brings along
And secret makin’s in the pot,
Makes all the diff’rence in the brew
‘Twixt cowboy coffee and whut’s not.
Arbuckle’s beans are mighty fine
But coffee needs the cowboy touch
Before it gits thet certain way
With fortifyin’ taste an’ such.”
While rapt, attentive cowboys stared
And took another sip or two,
The cook went on to tell about
The making of their fav’rite brew.
“It all begins with perfect beans,”
Began the cook with lofty air,
And first they’re warshed in cowboy socks
To clean the dust and cattle hair.
And then they’re ground the cowboy way
Beneath a boot-heel caked with mud
To mix the beans with earthy muck
Before we boils away the crud.
Cold water’s taken ‘way up stream
Far from the cattle wat’rin’ hole,
Then boiled on fire plenty hot,
Thet’s built from sun dried prairie coal.
So, once yuh has a cow chip blaze
Yuh warms the water in the pot,
Then adds the crushed up coffee beans
An’ boils ‘er ‘til she laughs a lot.
Yuh waits a few more minutes then
For coffee no man can resist,
The cowboy filterin’ step comes next
And adds the final cowboy twist.
Yuh pours ‘er through a trail-worn sock
To filter out the coffee grounds,
Then pours ‘er in yer coffee cup
An’ sips ‘er up with sighin’ sounds.
The cowboys smiled ‘cuz now they knew
Why coffee made without the drip,
But made the good ol’ cowboy way,
Was sure ‘nuff good at every sip.
The coosie grinned and pointed at
The wrangler’s cup of steaming brew,
Said “See thet dark stuff floatin’ there?”
The waddie smirked as if he knew.
“Waal, ‘taint the grounds we filtered out
Makes real authentic cowboy taste,
It’s stuff thet’s even more unique
And never added to in haste.
We mixes in some cactus juice
And jest a pinch of rattler’s tail,
And mebbe sweat from off a hoss
Thet’s been out on a dusty trail.
And then to make real cowboy joe
Thet smells just right ‘twixt cup and lip,
We fin’ly adds a bit of cow…
Thet floatin’ thing’s an ol’ cow chip!”
© 2017 by Dan "Doc" Wilson
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.