Tornados My Name

by Jim Liles
(Smithfield, Utah)

There’s a chill on the morn, and a bit of frost,
as I walk around planning my day.
The first performance is still some time off,
I’ll soon be able to play.
The pen here’s a big one, much better than some,
lots of room to spread out the hay.
Just easing around, got things on my mind,
before I tackle the work of the day.
The cowboys are circling, outside the big pen,
to catch a glimpse of their draw in the round.
They look through the panels, they point and they jabber,
and some just don’t make a sound.
He’s skinny, not tall, not impressive at all,
I’m thinking of all I can do.
Seems older than most, some scars from the road,
as our eyes meet, for a second or two.
There’s a J lazy S, branded on my right hip,
that’s shot fear into more than a few.
Tornado’s my name, thrown’ cowboys is my game,
I’ll show Freckles just what I can do.
It’s the NFR, Clem yelled from afar,
as the horses bound into the ring.
The music was loud, and the crowd stood solemn,
National Anthem, and God Save The Queen.
It will soon be my turn, to spin and to churn,
and teach this old cowboy to fly.
His name might be Freckles, but he don’t look so special,
I’ve got tricks, I’ve not even tried.
I’ve heard tell of this man, they call Freckles Brown,
they say that he’s sure nuf a hand.
But my names Tornado, and I’m as rank as they come,
un-ridden, top bull in the land.
Down the lane, and into the chute,
two champions soon will meet.
They will soon learn, who the real champ is,
when I perform, my un-rideable feat.
I’ll let him know, just who I am,
now that he’s drawn a real champ.
A jump in the chute, I’ll bounce him around,
Add a few bruises, to this skinny old man
The gate flies open and I leap to the sky,
longest jump that I’ve ever made.
three rounds to the left with a terrible bound,
could I possibly have made a mistake?
I bound straight forward, and back to the right,
surely this will bring him down.
He’s matched every move with spur and a grunt,
and the whistle blows, with my last round.
I’ve surely met, my match this day,
by an old man that came to town.
Maybe the best bull ride, ever made,
by the man they called, Freckles Brown.

Copyright by
Jim Liles 02/2011

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Tornado' My Name, Rodeo' My Game.
by: Ronny Rogers

Good poem Jim. I was fortunate enough to see the whole time period of " Tornado's My Name ". I was working with Buster Ivory, whose job was to care for all the NFR stock. From early in the morning till after the performance at night we worked hard to care for and deliver the stock to the coliseum from small holding pens at another exhibit building. Tornado was very easy to handle and work even in the demolished pen he was assigned. His pen mate Big Bad John was one bad cat and we had to make repairs daily to the pen. Big Bad John was my only worry for that week as he was the type that hated all people, and he would try to come through the panels and get you. The ride was a sight to remember, and the place erupted at the eight second mark.

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