Jan Young


(c) 1998 by Jan Young

(Based loosely on Mark 11:1-10)

Two men led an unbroke colt,
Wild-eyed and about to bolt.

"Here's the colt you said to bring.
He's one of the best and fit for a king.

"His bloodline's royal as they get;
To buy him, you'd end up in debt.

"The owner sent this fancy bit,
And here's a saddle that might fit."

The Master shook His head and smiled.
"You two treat him like he's wild."

He slipped the halter from its head.
"We won't be needing this," He said.

He touched the colt, its head, its feet;
The bond between them was complete.

The wild look in its eye was gone.
It calmly stood and let Him on.

He sat the colt that'd never been rode.
Would it buck? Would it explode?

No saddle, bridle, bit or rein;
He moved it forward, touched its mane.

They walked, they trotted, circled, stopped
Never bolted, spooked or hopped.

One whispered "Magic--it's a trick!
Who could tame a colt so quick?"

The Master spun the colt around.
The man's eyes dropped to the ground.

"My creatures know My voice, My touch.
If only men could do as much!"

Looking royal, sitting tall,
He started toward the city wall.

The colt moved easily down the hill,
The Master's destiny to fulfill.


Out in the sagebrush, the cattle roam
Wanderin' aimlessly, far from home

On a fine white horse there comes a Rider
Grabbin' His brim, He pulls His hat down tighter

Tall and majestic, He sits His steed
The big white stud moves with grace and speed

He packs a spade bit, wears an A-fork saddle
He looks like he could carry a King into battle

The Cattle King rides His spread, gatherin' His cattle
On a thousand hills, they bawl and skedaddle

The sun is setting, the hour is late
He's workin' the stragglers toward the gate

"Bring 'em in," He calls to His buckaroos
"It's time to sort 'em, to see whose is whose"

The cows are all in, the hills are stripped clean
It's the biggest rodear His crew's ever seen

The set of corrals has an alley and pens
The gate is shut and the sorting begins

He stations Himself in front of the herd
The others wait for His signal, His word
He pushes two forward-"An 'in' and a 'by'!"

The man in the alley responds to His cry.
He steps his horse forward, splits up the pair
The "in" goes by first, past the nose of his mare

Farther down the alley, near the gate of a pen
Another buckaroo steps out and turns her in

He steps his horse back, just inside the gate
The next cow goes by, unaware of her fate

One pen of culls, another of keepers
The crew sorts them out, kind of like grim reapers

The King on the white horse is coming back soon
The last gather could happen at mornin', night, or noon

Will you be an "in" or will you be a "by"
When He holds that big Rodear in the sky?

Rodear: Spanish term "to gather;" related to the word "rodeo"
Buckaroo: Americanization of the Spanish "vaquero"
Spade bit, A-fork saddle: Commonly used in parts of the West where the Spanish vaquero influence is still felt

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