‘Lost’ is just a state of mind

On the Edge of Common Sense
By Baxter Black, DVM

A source of pride amongst cowboys is knowin’ the lay of the land.

And any poor fool that gets lost they figger ain’t much of a hand!

They said, “We’ll all meet at Bull Crick!” Then looked at me like a trainee!

“Draw me a map and I’ll find it! Columbus had nothin’ on me!”

Daylight broke into my windshield, headed south and loaded for bear.

I turned at the Grasmere station I should’a shot myself right there!

Nothin’ was like they described it, no mailbox where it should be,

No coyote hide on the fence post, now where’s Mary’s Crick s’posed to be?

Their map showed tourist attractions including, I swear, Noah’s Ark!

Little ol’ tricklin’ Sheep Creek was wider than Yellowstone Park!

I crossed the Cow and the Horse Crick and cricks named for Nickels and Dimes

Through Nit Crick, Louse Crick and Crab Crick, Crossed Willer Crick twenty-eight times!

I drove demented and crazy! A’chasin’ my tail like a dog!

Coursing through desert and mountain, brush thicket and cattail bog!

Fighting back panic, I’m thinkin’, ‘I could die and never be found!

Worse yet, I’ll look like a gunsel who can’t find his way outta town!

Harold was the boss of the truckers. I figgered he might set me right.

So, I called him up on the two-way and explained my desperate plight.

He said, “Describe yer surroundings.” I looked for a landmark somewhere.

“Ain’t nothin’ but rocks and sagebrush!”

He said, “Sonny, yer almost there!”