A Cowboy's Bread

Now, the story I’m a tellin’ you
was told to me as bein’ true
by a hand who heard it from his pa,
who’d cowboy’d out-a Wichita
with a fella who cooked
for the outfit in question.
At least I think
that’s his recollection.
They were drivin’ a herd
through wind and rain
to a railhead in Kansas,
cross that flat open plain,
when they came to a spot
that seemed to be right,
so they halted the herd
and camped for the night.
Round the campfire that evenin’
as cowboys will do,
they began swappin stories
and a tall tale or two
‘bout things they had done,
the wild oats they’d sown,
the horses they’d broke
and the trail cooks they’d known.
Then, the talk turned to vittles,
what they’d eat if they could
and just why they thought
their selection was good.
Well, as you might guess,
they all did attest
to lovin slabs of meat.
But, it’s what they’d put beside it,
that made each meal their treat.
One said baked potatoes,
another likes ‘em fried
with onions and green peppers
and ta-maters on the side.
Corn on the cob got several votes
and so did salad greens.
And, I guess it was unanimous
that no one wanted beans.
Then someone asked the cook himself,
when he’s not on the range
just what his favorite food would be.
And they thought he acted strange,
‘cause he just stood there, silent like,
then, to each of them he said,
pay attention and I’ll tell ya
why what I love is bread.
“Rye that's either dark or light,
Pumpernickel, black or white,
Sourdough or cinnamon sweet,
bread is what I love to eat.
Said, “Nothin's better, coast to coast
than anything with Garlic Toast.
For breakfast, what I think is grand,
are biscuits fried up in a pan”,
and added, “What’s good after supper,
is a big old hunk a sopper-upper,
He loves Bread !
Said he met the woman he loves most
one summer at a weenie roast.
They shared a hot dog on a roll
and Spoon Bread in a little bowl.
She's now his wife and children's mother
and once a year, they "Toast" each other.
They love Bread!
But he said the best they’d ever had
was none of the above.
It was made with pure self-rising flour
and kneaded well with love
by a baker who’s goal is to feed the soul
in good times and in strife.
To get it you just have to ask
for Jesus Christ, The Bread of Life.
Then, to a man, those cowhands said
“Amen to that, thank God for Bread.”
Jeff Hildebrandt © 1999