New cd of Terry Nash, entitled "A Good Ride"

First, Terry Nash is, beyond a doubt, one of the best Cowboy Poets writing or delivering today.  I have always found his releases to be worth both your time and investment.


Badger Clark's “Ridin'” was put to music as a song some years back by D. W. Groethe and was later issued in a more upbeat arrangement by Jim Jones.  For this album, guitarist Ken Dravis helps to create a different but equally suitable mounting for Nash's enthusiastic take on it.  Beyond the Clark cover, others include works of Kiskaddon (“The Lost Flannels”), Donnie Wynkoop (the hilarious “Fords [Snake Attack]”) and Buck Ramsey (“Bad Job”).  Original picks are “Homesteader,” a fresh version of his wonderful work “A Cowman's Lot,” an 'object' lesson (the object being cow poop) called “Blurred Vision,” “December Stragglers” and what could be called a modern-day “moral of the story” story “Skype (#don'tgetthispoundsignstuff).”


I've said this in other reviews, but it holds true.  This particular CD is one of those you might consider using when defining or illustrating what Cowboy Poetry is or should be.    Fourteen tracks.  Highly recommended.


CD:  $18 ppd from Terry Nash, 1278 N Road, Loma, CO 81524 or visit www.terrynashcowboypoet.com 

  • Ridin
  • Two Below the Hocks
  • The Lost Flannins
  • Homesteader
  • A Cowman’s Lot
  • Blurred Vision
  • Pensioner
  • Fords (Snake Attack)
  • December Stragglers
  • Skype (#don’tgetthispoundsignstuff)
  • Bad Job
  • Unsettled
  • My Pew
  • A Good Ride


by Terry Nash


I’m unsettled these days.

Just slightly off-track.

It’s almost been a year

Since I was horseback.


I daydream now and then,

And think about past years

When I viewed summer range

Between two pointed ears.


I long for the small things

That come with the life,

Like saddlin’ a mount

At morning’s first light,


And the sound of the nickers

When the trailer’d pull in.

The handshakes and howdys

Of old pards brought a grin.


Then ridin’ with good friends

Lookin’ for cattle.

Checkin’ ‘em all meant

A full day a’straddle.


I pine for that thick smell

From a workin’ day’s sweat

When I’d strip my kack

And the blanket was wet,


And the soft quiet sound

Of a horse chewin’ hay

While I leaned on the rail

At the end of the day.


In mountains or desert

Just follerin’ cows,

My mind would rest easy

If I’s back there right now.

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