Tony Mangan and Bella
I bought me a saddle on which to skedaddle,
But I hadn’t a horse to put under.
I could hear the herd comin’ and see the herd goin’
And their hooves were a beatin’ like thunder.
And, that sound seemed to say “Cowboy, step away,
‘Cause if you stand in this road, you’ll go under.”
So, with nowhere to go and an oncomin’ snow,
I holed up with my dreams and my saddle.
You know, the one that I bought while having the thought
‘Bout gettin’ on up an skedaddle.
Well, spring finally came and we suffered some rain
And everything greened up real fine.
Sun was much higher and meadows were drier
And a mustang named Bella came by -
A grey-speckled roan with a mind of her own
Keeping safe distance, and walkin’ alone.
With no fearin’ no nothin,’ she ate our sweet grass,
While prancin’ and struttin’ her obvious class.
As I watched this proud filly as pretty as sun-up,
A thought I’d had sleepin’ was fixin’ to wake up.
If roamin’ I wanted by way of skedaddle,
I’d have to get Bella up under my saddle.
I started a courtin’ my Bella that day,
With carrots and cookies to turn her my way.
While she freely accepted what I had to offer,
My saddle was one thing she’d surely keep off her.
Still, I courted through summer with goodies and hay
And Bella, it seemed, really liked it that way.
She et and she slept and she took to the barn,
All the while takin goodies an doin’ no harm.
So, she held out on ridin’ till the end of the fall,
‘Cause she knew, that through winter, she’d stay in her stall
She’s smart, that sweet Bella, she uses her wiles
To soft soap a fella with sweet looks and style.
It worked like a charm, that delay of the saddle.
Now I’m up that there creek without any paddle.
And, beautiful Bella has won the first round,
‘Cause the frost is a nippin’ and snow’s on the ground.
But, the first day of spring, there’ll be no fiddle-faddle,
I’m puttin’ sweet Bella up under my saddle,
And we’ll ride out together, up that road to skedaddle.
-- Tony Mangan 2006
I grew up in New York state during that time when people were proud of our great country, its flag, and possessed an abiding faith that God kept watch over us all. My father passed away when I was three months old, and as a result, my family was of very modest means. Higher education was not on my horizon. Along with my two sisters, it followed that we shared the profound blessing to have grown up in a matriarchal household. My mother was one of those strong women you hear about from those times who worked in a munitions factory during the war and held a second job as the cashier in a movie theater. Mother taught us core lessons in ethics, values and behavior. I took an interest in changing politics at about fifteen or sixteen and railed against the growing trends toward disrespect for all that we cherished. From that time, I took an interest in poetry and have attempted to use it to vent my frustration and dismay at the onslaught of disregard for America that has plagued us for decades. As I approach my eightieth birthday, I can’t think of anything more rewarding than to keep on keeping on.
