BRUCE KISKADDON'S classic cowboy poetry is well known throughout the world. He was born in 1878. He started his work life as a wrangler in Colorado. Later, he worked as a cowboy in various Western states. He served  in the Army during World War I; and for a time, remained overseas, working as a  "jackaroo" in Australia.  He returned to the western United States; and in the 1920's, he went to Hollywood. Here he wrangled horses and played bit parts in the movies. He came to the realization that it was more lucrative, and easier, to work as a bellhop in the hotels. This he did for several years. In 1924, he published his first book of poetry. For the rest of his life he wrote poetry, publishing additional books in  1928, 1935, and 1947. He recreated in poetry the life he knew and loved on the ranch and the range, using the words that he heard spoken there.

The following poem appeared in The Los Angeles Union Stock Yards monthly livestock letter. It will not be found in any of the Kiskaddon books

Cowboys gathered at a campfire.

 THAT SMOKE

Have you noticed a man with his pots and his pans
A tryin' to cook on the ground
And it ain't any joke the way that the smoke
Will foller that feller around.

If the man crouches down it goes close to the ground
And he can't see the stuff in his pan
If he raises up high it goes right in his eye
And mighty near blinds the pore man.
He gits his pot hook fer to take a good look
At the biscuits he's tryin' to bake.
But right then he can't see where the lid ort to be
And he dassen't to make a mistake.

Yes down through the years comes the memory of tears
And of grub that was scorched or half raw
How the camp fire smoked and you blinded and choked
Just to git a few bites in your craw.

Bruce Kiskaddon

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