|I wrote this myself one late stormy/rainy July night strolling through TN trying to keep awake to make sure my load got where it needed to be.
Thought you might want to post it on your site. It's hit home with a lot of my fellow bull-buddies and their wives.
Bullhauler�s Blues by Jessica Loree
I open my eyes, and I look around, a diesel engine, the only sound. Alone in my bunk, my feet cold on the floor, I lean up front, and look out the door. I grab for my notes, all tattered and torn, and go out side, as this new day is born.
I walk to the office, where the coffee is hot, and point to my Pete, way out in the lot. A fresh blanket of snow, had fallen last night, and loading my cows, I�m in for a fight. I circle around with the chute in my mirror, and think to myself, I wonder why I�m here. I put on my boots, my carhartt, my gloves, as I walk down that ramp, a silent prayer sent above.
I pray for my family, my kids, and my wife. The pain they must go through, a bull-hauler�s life. The cows they are grouchy, they don�t like the cold, I cuss to the shadows, it�s tough getting old. They kick and they snort, they turn and they run. A yell from behind me, �Get out! Damn-it! RUN!!�
Before I could move, the cows, they all came, and when I woke up, I�d forgotten my name. With a cast on my arm, a bandage on my head, the doc even said, �you�re lucky you aren�t dead!� With orders to rest, I was told to go home, but I gave him my word, and I won�t go alone.
So back to the snow, the cold, and the muck, Oh where did they put it? Oh Shit! Where�s my truck? Oh hell, there it is, parked out in the back, I about passed out, from the panic attack. She might not be much, but she�s all that I�ve got, and over the years, we�ve sure seen a lot.
So once again, to the chute, I must go, with the pain and the cold, I�m moving so slow. I feel like a rookie, like I don�t know my job, a bloody shirt and torn pants, I feel like a slob. I pause down the ramp, and I close my sore eyes, I think about things, this job, my demise. My family has stood there, through thick and through thin, and I almost lost all, and never saw them again.
But what would I do, without my old Pete? My hand on the gear shift, my butt on the seat. I could start a new life, new job, new career. But you know I�d end up, with my ass right back here. It gets in your blood, it consumes your whole life, and when you give up, it cuts your heart like a knife.
I finally get �em loaded, and drop down my gate, in the dogbox muddy clothes, for my paperwork, I wait. The vet never saw them, he told a white lie, but he signed all my papers, and told me goodbye. I start my old truck, and we go down the road, I look at my gauges, how heavy IS this load? I dig up the papers, the numbers, aren�t right, I look at the clock, it�s gonna be a long night! I grab for my map, and plan a new way, I know all these new miles, put a bite in my pay.
I�ll be there tomorrow, if I don�t take a shower, I reach for my Skoal, and count down the hours. I call home to my wife, but some things I don�t say. I tell her I love her, and which bills she can�t pay. I promise to work harder, and be a better provider. She tells me she loves me, she knows I�m a fighter. I hung up my phone, and locked in my cruise, and I thought to myself, these are the Bull-Hauler Blues...!
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