Ride For the Brand

The following is a poem by Red Steagall Entitled "Ride For The Brand"
It is about the relationship that Employees should have with their Employer.
To often in todays society employees feel entitled to be employed, when in reality they often owe their employer more than they know.

I like the part in the poem where it says:
"Remember it was you Who asked for the job, So don't bitch when you ride for this brand. Mr. Waggoner don't Hold with complainers, He'll fire one before he can quit. So if you don't like your outfit, Then head down the trail, Find a hoss that your saddle will fit. But if you get up early And catch your own bronc, Show the boss that you're makin ' a hand; Mr. Waggoner'll be there To cover your bets As long as you ride for his brand."

People, If all you want to do is complain about your job well then maybe you should go find a different one!

Heres the poem in its entirety,

Ride for the Brand
by Red Steagall

His skin looked like leather,
He walked with a limp
And talked with a slow Texas drawl.
His knuckles were knotted,
His left thumb was gone,
Said a stud bit it off last fall.
We knew he was lyin'
We watched him dally it up,
But it ain't healthy to call him a liar.
It was Saturday night
Before the wagon went out
And he was settin' this new kid on fire.
Now we've all heard his stories
'Bout places he's been - We all think that Jake's pretty strange.
He looked over at me
Said "I'm schoolin' this boy
'Bout the unwritten laws of the range"
The kid was enthralled,
Kinda like a trance,
Jake sensed that he had a good grip.
He straightened up, hitched his pants,
Took a drink of cold beer;
Turned around with his hand on his hip.
He said, "Son, a man's brand Is his own special mark
That says this is mine, leave it alone.
You hire out to a man, Ride for his brand
And protect it like it was your own."
He said, "Mr. Waggoner Come out here in 1903,
This country was sagebrush, mesquite trees and sand
He carved him a ranch Outa blood; sweat, and guts,
So be proud that you ride for his brand.
If you hire out to string barb wire,
Then build him a fence-
Don't matter if it's four or five strand.
Remember it was you
Who asked for the job,
So don't bitch when you ride for this brand.
Mr. Waggoner don't Hold with complainers,
He'll fire one before he can quit.
So if you don't like your outfit,
Then head down the trail,
Find a hoss that your saddle will fit.
But if you get up early
And catch your own bronc,
Show the boss that you're makin ' a hand;
Mr. Waggoner'll be there
To cover your bets
As long as you ride for his brand."
He said, "The winter I spent
At the Sixes,
We had a man at the old
Taylor place He rode up on some hiders
A skinnin ' a cow,
And squared off at them scamps face to face.
Now he coulda rode off;
Never looked back,
But he just wasn't that kind of man.
We found him in Ash Creek Shot all to hell,
Nocona Joe died for the brand"
We know the old man
Tells a windy or two
Like the one about losing his thumb.
And Nocona was killed In a bar in Fort Worth
By the demons in a bottle of rum.
But I got to thinkin ,
'Bout what he had said
And the more of it I understand.
The more I believe
We'd be all better off
If more people would ride for the brand,


Shown is Heaven on Earth's Brand

I Ride for this Brand