Greenough Girls

Nineteen twenty-eight
Billings, Montana
Two slender, trim ladies
Flipping through a magazine
Quit the world of waiting tables
To fork the broncs
And spur their way around the World
In satin shirts they made at home

Alice tipped her hat to Kings
Had tea with Queens
Rode fighting bulls in Spain
Stayed Down Under
Went to Cattlemen's Picnics
Just to buck jump
With no stirrups
In funny flat saddles

Margie married Heavy
Raised a baby in a tepee
On trains--in Model T's
They bought Little Blue Rocket
in Canada
After that the boy rode with them
Up the arena ramp to the thrill and roar
Of Madison Square
Cheyenne, San Francisco, Boston
Red Lodge, Tucson...

There they are

Marge and Alice, Grandad's sisters

Two tiny trim ladies in neat clothes, big hats

Evidence that for a price

Plenty of will

The World can be Won

As I've grown--their blood in my veins

Burns and wants to

Nineteen thirty-four

Billings, Montana

Doris Corwin, college Girl

Refined, determined and lovely

Stepped off a train to marry her cowboy 

In Hardin in a square, bare room

With one brass spittoon

Grandad, cowboss, carried his bride to a tepee

Set a ways away at the wagon

And finished Fall Works

Already they knew 

That there would be family

Fine homes, good ranches and horses

And Grandmother built an empire

Of propriety and pride

Taught her daughters literature

Elegance--how to cook for thirty cowboys

With grace and honor in a genteel home

She frowned at daughters 

Who cast eyes at aunts and glory

Who thought of a World not won

And with her determination--knowledge of right

Kept them at the house 

Where she knew they belonged

My God she is strong

There she is

Grandma Greenough, Grandad's sweetheart

Loving, true, deep-hearted and solid

Awesome as a mountain in a handsome woman way

Evidence that quiet dignity

Is priceless

And can be done

As I've grown--her blood in my veins

Runs deep, and proud, and calm

And wants to stand

So here I stand

And I look both ways

Wild adventure and solid refinement

And I want both ways

Respectable pride, and glorious fame

With only one path that I can ride

So I try 

To weave between

To slip around and through

My Models of Life

To live up to 

Those Greenough Girls