Five bulls left in a ten-section pasture
All turned three in the spring of last year
Of all the meanest, they were the worst
Their natural-born enemy: a man on a horse
Six thousand vertical acres of rock and cat-claw
It’s a wonder they hadn’t missed them all
High heeled boots they didn’t wear
But they could rope a lion and tie a bear
‘Cause lack of punch don’t mean lack of poke
Just ask those who know the …