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Three Carloads of Horses | Marshall Andrew Crawford
https://marshallcrawford.wordpress.com/crawford-prose/three-carloads-of-horses
In Memory of This Man. Three Carloads of Horses. September 5, 2004. Now my visit with Uncle Pingree and Aunt Rachel was over, and I hadn’t found any employment around Cortez either, so now I found myself in the passenger seat of a produce truck approaching the great metropolis of Thompson, Utah. Could I have a glass of water? I said, or I think I said. The bartender’s grin got broader, but he said, No comprendo. Thinking he didn’t speak English, I said, Agua, Senor, agua. It was easy to see that I was ge...
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Accordin’ to The Rules | Marshall Andrew Crawford
https://marshallcrawford.wordpress.com/accordin-to-the-rules
In Memory of This Man. Accordin’ to The Rules. Marshall’s son, Sean, loves to recite Marshall’s poems. Sean does this from memory and this one with an Australian accent. Sean posted the following online on Christmas Eve 2010:. Accordin’ to The Rules. In Alice Springs, one Christmas Eve,. I chanced upon a game. Of cricket, bowls, or somethin’ else;. I can’t recall the name. The lone contestant held the floor —. No shirt, no shoes, no tools;. You saw by just one easy glance. He played it by The Rules.
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Grandpa’s Looking Glass | Marshall Andrew Crawford
https://marshallcrawford.wordpress.com/crawford-prose/grandpas-looking-glass
In Memory of This Man. Grandpa’s Looking Glass. March 21, 2003. Now, this just isn’t fair, when you consider what the old looking glass that hangs on the wall in our bedroom has reflected, over the many years when it hung on the wall of Frank Hallford’s barber shop in Mancos, Colorado from about 1887 until the 1930s. As time went on, the fame of Frank Hallford’s barber shop got around; business grew until he couldn’t handle it all so he hired a barber , then it grew until he had to send to Denver for a c...
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Buttons | Marshall Andrew Crawford
https://marshallcrawford.wordpress.com/crawford-poetry/buttons
In Memory of This Man. A poem by Marshall Crawford. Yep, they sold old Buttons for chicken feed. While I was away at the war. It wasn’t like they was starvin’ you know,. And it ain’t as though they still are. With six hundred head of top grade beef,. And three thousand acres of land,. Couldn’t they have jist let old Buttons live,. As a favor to this little ranch hand? We’d seen some country, old Buttons and me,. In the dry and the wet and the snow. Takin’ care of them cattle on the winter range. He’s the...
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Daddy Dack’s Pipe | Marshall Andrew Crawford
https://marshallcrawford.wordpress.com/crawford-prose/daddy-dacks-pipe
In Memory of This Man. Daddy Dack’s Pipe. By Ganny’s House in Yerington. It was Daddy Dack’s ninetieth birthday. Mrs. Hurd had baked a cake for the occasion and left it for his enjoyment, then gone back to her home. She owned the farm on which he lived, a homestead a mile or so south of Mason, Nevada. The year was 1932, I believe. That night after supper, Crawford got out his new pipe, rubbed some tobacco between his palms, stuffed his pipe and lit up. That tobacco smoke smelled pretty aromatic even ...
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The Line Cabin | Marshall Andrew Crawford
https://marshallcrawford.wordpress.com/the-line-cabin
In Memory of This Man. The cook looked purty sad as she handed me the sack,. Sayin’ Here’s a little chicken fer a snack. You can munch on, on your way;. It’s a rough ride, so they say. All the way up that big canyon to the shack. At the foot of El Cajon,. Where you’ll be livin’ all alone,. And the Lord alone knows jist when you’ll be back. Then I tightened up the lead rope on old Jim;. It was gonna be a lotta work for him. Jist to keep up with my horse;. I was ridin’ Rock, of course,. Jist as soon as the...
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My Old Harmonikee | Marshall Andrew Crawford
https://marshallcrawford.wordpress.com/crawford-poetry/my-old-harmonikee
In Memory of This Man. Now I’m sittin’ here on the bunk house steps. A-takin’ things easy, you see;. Ain’t nobody left out here at the place. To keep me company. Since all the boys has got slicked up. And headed for town, but me. But I ain’t lonesome, cause I still got. It’s been a comfort through the years,. It’s kept away the lonesome. When I’m by myself, you see. When there ain’t no-one to talk to. And the camp fire’s dyin’ out,. And I’m leanin’ on my saddle. Cause I’m nearly tuckered out. With my old...
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Lonesome Jack | Marshall Andrew Crawford
https://marshallcrawford.wordpress.com/crawford-prose/lonesome-jack
In Memory of This Man. The story of a real old-time cowboy. If the reader of this little story expects to peruse an account of rags to riches he or she will be disappointed. It is a story of hardship to hardship, with some good days in between. It is a story of one man’s lifelong struggle against the implacable foe of circumstance; a struggle that could not be won. Anyway, though I must apologize for such a vague account of the move of those two Crawfords, I must say that the particulars were never told ...
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MARSHALL’S PROSE | Marshall Andrew Crawford
https://marshallcrawford.wordpress.com/crawford-prose
In Memory of This Man. GRANDPA’S LOOKING GLASS. DADDY DACK’S PIPE. HREE CARLOADS OF HORSES. THE CIVILIAN CONSERVATION CORPS. Published on April 21, 2011 at 3:08 pm Comments Off on MARSHALL’S PROSE. Eulogy by Tim Tretheway, Nephew. In Loving Memory of Marshall. Ada Crawford-Painter and Mother of Eight Children. Nuthin’ But Dust. Accordin’ to The Rules. Grandpa’s Looking Glass. Daddy Dack’s Pipe. Three Carloads of Horses. The Civilian Conservation Corps. A Story from the Bank: Terrenzio. Our Model T Ford.
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Nuthin’ But Dust | Marshall Andrew Crawford
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In Memory of This Man. Nuthin’ But Dust. I’ve got grit in my teeth and dirt in my eyes,. So that sometimes I hardly can see,. But it don’t make no difference ‘cause I’m jist a kid. At the back of the herd; that’s me. Well, it ain’t too much fun ridin’ back of the herd. Eatin’ nuthin’ but dust all day. About where I sit in this here cattle drive. I sure don’t have nuthin’ to say. I’m ridin’ a horse that’s jist got to be. At least ten years older than me. The bow in his neck is jist plain upside down.
