Nevada McCloud and the Persimmons


Nevada McCloud and the Persimmons

She was much like a rain storm, come out of the South,
Warm and heavy an' stern but so kind round the mouth -
Wouldn't take No for an answer, an' Yes was the sum of
Her giving, the word she spoke best...
She could ride an' cut steer with the best of our men,
An' we all recall all of the hard times, for then, her face
Was a study of grit and hard work, for she was rancher -
Ranch Folks never shirk...
Her name was Nevada an' she lived that claim,
She herded at round-up without fuss or shame,
An' kept us in vittles an' treated our sores, an' chopped
Wood like men-folk could, did all the chores that ever
Us Ranchers do, heavy and hard, an' hunted, an' kept
Up the Chickens an' yards...
Somebody asked, "What was that woman like, then?" an'
I scratched my head at that question, an' said "When
I think of it, I would say, "She was Persimmons. Nevada
McCloud were a real frontier Woman."
Nevada went dead in the fall when them winds blow, just
So, from old age, when the leaves change an' cold grows.
We cried for a spell, all the boys did and right, an' the sun
Shown on down on Persimmons so ripe, we decided to
Eat em, to honor her life, my good rancher woman,
My Love of this life....

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