submitted by Anna May Batty
Last December we posted an excerpt from an account written by John H. Stoutenburg, and subsequently have acquired this poem. As a child I’d lay on the floor before the fire on a winter day with my toes extended toward the flames, looking up over our mantle, where hung the enormous horns of which this rhymed tale account.
The Texas Steer was composed in 1875 at Quinn River, Humboldt River, Nevada. John was working for one John Hoppin, a sheepman. In 1880, John H. Stoutenburg, along with H. H. Barney, and L. H. Hamilton formed the Sage Creek Sheep Company in the Judith Basin area of Montana. John Stoutenburg was the great uncle of Marietta Lehman and also mine.
Ila Stoutenburg-Malloy
STFA Web Manager
For your holiday enjoyment we submit to you…
THE TEXAS STEER
by John Stoutenburg
What we call a bull team is twenty Texas steers,
Armed with horns upon their heads, like mules are armed with ears,
Their hindends are protected by heels instead of horns,
And woe unto the fellow who steps upon their corns,
I’ve watched them through a field glass, their bodies are lean and lank,
And minus of their dinner, they’re no thicker than a plank.
They stand on legs like bean poles, of spider shape and queer
Their horns, I swear would shame an elk,
They’re eight feet in the clear.
Times are kinda lively, when those critters take a run,
There’s no use trying to catch them, for the thing just can’t be done.
Our fleetest whiteyed cayuses are left far in the rear,
And lightening can’t run crooked enough, to catch a Texas steer.
Had the South a thousand of these steers, at the battle of Bull Run,
They’d not have given up the chase, ‘til they’d taken Washington,
And when they placed their banner o’er the ruins and the dead,
They would’ve painted a Texas steer beside a copperhead.
You cannot use a blacksnake in driving of these steers,
For the lash would tangle ‘mong their horns, and lop around their ears.
It’s sure to wrapa knot, you never could untie,
And if a fellow ain’t a fool, he’ll likely never try.
They drive them with a goad stick, like the handle of a broom,
And the main point in driving them, is to give them plenty room,
But as to minor items, I never stop to see,
For fear the critters will break loose, and then take after me.
I always get on top the house, when the bull team is in sight,
Armed with Winchester rifle when they turn them loose at night.
Then you see, I feel tickled to think how safe I be,
For a steer cannot climb a house, tho’ he can climb a tree.
A driver that is married, and has a pretty wife,
You will generally convince him, that he’d best insure his life.
For when a steer once takes a notion, to kindly lay him by,
She’ll first thing take the money, then she’ll take a little cry.
I wouldn’t drive a bull team on a Silver City road,
For all the bullion taken from the Mammouth Comstock Lode.
And take a desperate chance when the drought is at its worst
Involved ever in a cloud of alkali and dust.
It’s hard on Christian drivers, who believe in church and prayer,
For you cannot make a bull team pull, unless you cuss and swear.
After it’s all figured out, they will all of them agree,
That you cannot work a bull-team, by a double rule of three.
Now, you can think I’m joking, and my veracity may doubt,
But if it’s not a certain fact, my name’s not Johnny Stout.
And if you think I’m somewhat mixed, ‘twill still all your fears,
When you see a bullteam of full-blooded Texas Steers.
anna batty, hh barney, humboldt river, ila malloy, john h stoutenburg, john hoppin, john stoutenburg, judith basin, lh hamilton, longhorn steer, marietta lehman, quinn river, quinn river nevada, sage creek, sage creek montana, sage creek sheep company, texas steer
Thank you to Mae Robinson for bringing to our attention this amazing piece.
In case some of you might be interested in researching and even building your family tree, we would suggest 
