Calgary Albertan, pg.3
September 25, 1958
By Elizabeth Motherwell
Ray Bagley of the Crowsnest Ranch, Coleman, says: "I galloped by the school house very fast three or four times, and that's all the schooling I had."
He is, however, the walking encyclopedia for Alberta lore. The story is told with a gentle philosophy and the poet's vision and insight. He also collects histories of the West and of Canada. When he is alone, which isn't too often because of a vast circle of friends, he reads poetry. Inspiration for his own verse comes in the night.
He is a milestone or two past his 80th year, but says: "There are many things I intend to do yet before I get my harp."
His parents came West in 1892, travelling by wagon from Iowa to Emerson, Man., from which point they shipped by CPR to Lacombe.
When he was 21, Mr. Bagley travelled back to Iowa on horseback taking the same pleasure from this 2,500 mile ride he has had every step of his path life.
He says he has spent most of his life "with a horse between my knees." His parents came from near the Missouri Line, "that's why people have to show me!"
Mr. Bagley is the poet of the Trail Riders of the Canadian Rockies and through Trail Riders his poems have been circulated around North America. For years he has been urged to jot down his philosophy as well as his verse, but he is too busy promoting current projects which keeps him travelling about Alberta.
His ambition is to see that land is set aside for bridle paths near growing cities. "Access should be made to trails while there is room still available so that those cooped up in the city can get out without being tied up in traffic."
No Trail Rider's evening is complete without a recitation of "The Bulgy Squaw," the poem for which Mr. Bagley is most famous, but horses are his first love, so we have selected "The Brewster Cayuse."
Mr. Bagley says he prefers horse to People. "I know what a horse will do, and nobody knows what people will do." And one more bit of philosophy: "No matter how high you climb, there is always another hill beyond. You seldom reach the goal. If you do, you find the striving is the reward, and not the goal."
This simple philosophy is perhaps the reason Mr. Bagley has retained a zest for living most men lose on the climb.
THE BREWSTER CAYUSE
By Ray Bagley
He was only a Brewster cayuse,
But he'd packed many a dude,
Some were kind and thoughtful,
Other only rude.
Everything wrong but the rider,
And the cayuse got the blame,
He should have been a mind reader,
No two riders the same.
Pulling him this way, and pulling him that,
"Tell me, why don't he go?
The only command he understands,
Is the one word whoa."
St. Peter make room for a cayuse,
With a great big 7 H brand,
Lead him right up to the oat box,
In the happy hunting land.
Pull off his shoes St. Peter,
Give him a word of praise,
For he had provocation,
For his ungodly ways.
Bed him knee deep in pine needles,
Come away and let him feed.
Though he was only a Brewster cayuse,
He's had all the hell he needs.
September 25, 1958
By Elizabeth Motherwell
Ray Bagley of the Crowsnest Ranch, Coleman, says: "I galloped by the school house very fast three or four times, and that's all the schooling I had."
He is, however, the walking encyclopedia for Alberta lore. The story is told with a gentle philosophy and the poet's vision and insight. He also collects histories of the West and of Canada. When he is alone, which isn't too often because of a vast circle of friends, he reads poetry. Inspiration for his own verse comes in the night.
He is a milestone or two past his 80th year, but says: "There are many things I intend to do yet before I get my harp."
His parents came West in 1892, travelling by wagon from Iowa to Emerson, Man., from which point they shipped by CPR to Lacombe.
When he was 21, Mr. Bagley travelled back to Iowa on horseback taking the same pleasure from this 2,500 mile ride he has had every step of his path life.
He says he has spent most of his life "with a horse between my knees." His parents came from near the Missouri Line, "that's why people have to show me!"
Mr. Bagley is the poet of the Trail Riders of the Canadian Rockies and through Trail Riders his poems have been circulated around North America. For years he has been urged to jot down his philosophy as well as his verse, but he is too busy promoting current projects which keeps him travelling about Alberta.
His ambition is to see that land is set aside for bridle paths near growing cities. "Access should be made to trails while there is room still available so that those cooped up in the city can get out without being tied up in traffic."
No Trail Rider's evening is complete without a recitation of "The Bulgy Squaw," the poem for which Mr. Bagley is most famous, but horses are his first love, so we have selected "The Brewster Cayuse."
Mr. Bagley says he prefers horse to People. "I know what a horse will do, and nobody knows what people will do." And one more bit of philosophy: "No matter how high you climb, there is always another hill beyond. You seldom reach the goal. If you do, you find the striving is the reward, and not the goal."
This simple philosophy is perhaps the reason Mr. Bagley has retained a zest for living most men lose on the climb.
THE BREWSTER CAYUSE
By Ray Bagley
He was only a Brewster cayuse,
But he'd packed many a dude,
Some were kind and thoughtful,
Other only rude.
Everything wrong but the rider,
And the cayuse got the blame,
He should have been a mind reader,
No two riders the same.
Pulling him this way, and pulling him that,
"Tell me, why don't he go?
The only command he understands,
Is the one word whoa."
St. Peter make room for a cayuse,
With a great big 7 H brand,
Lead him right up to the oat box,
In the happy hunting land.
Pull off his shoes St. Peter,
Give him a word of praise,
For he had provocation,
For his ungodly ways.
Bed him knee deep in pine needles,
Come away and let him feed.
Though he was only a Brewster cayuse,
He's had all the hell he needs.
Calgary Albertan, pg.3
September 25, 1958
By Elizabeth Motherwell
Ray Bagley of the Crowsnest Ranch, Coleman, says: "I galloped by the school house very fast three or four times, and that's all the schooling I had."
He is, however, the walking encyclopedia for Alberta lore. The story is told with a gentle philosophy and the poet's vision and insight. He also collects histories of the West and of Canada. When he is alone, which isn't too often because of a vast circle of friends, he reads poetry. Inspiration for his own verse comes in the night.
He is a milestone or two past his 80th year, but says: "There are many things I intend to do yet before I get my harp."
His parents came West in 1892, travelling by wagon from Iowa to Emerson, Man., from which point they shipped by CPR to Lacombe.
When he was 21, Mr. Bagley travelled back to Iowa on horseback taking the same pleasure from this 2,500 mile ride he has had every step of his path life.
He says he has spent most of his life "with a horse between my knees." His parents came from near the Missouri Line, "that's why people have to show me!"
Mr. Bagley is the poet of the Trail Riders of the Canadian Rockies and through Trail Riders his poems have been circulated around North America. For years he has been urged to jot down his philosophy as well as his verse, but he is too busy promoting current projects which keeps him travelling about Alberta.
His ambition is to see that land is set aside for bridle paths near growing cities. "Access should be made to trails while there is room still available so that those cooped up in the city can get out without being tied up in traffic."
No Trail Rider's evening is complete without a recitation of "The Bulgy Squaw," the poem for which Mr. Bagley is most famous, but horses are his first love, so we have selected "The Brewster Cayuse."
Mr. Bagley says he prefers horse to People. "I know what a horse will do, and nobody knows what people will do." And one more bit of philosophy: "No matter how high you climb, there is always another hill beyond. You seldom reach the goal. If you do, you find the striving is the reward, and not the goal."
This simple philosophy is perhaps the reason Mr. Bagley has retained a zest for living most men lose on the climb.
THE BREWSTER CAYUSE
By Ray Bagley
He was only a Brewster cayuse,
But he'd packed many a dude,
Some were kind and thoughtful,
Other only rude.
Everything wrong but the rider,
And the cayuse got the blame,
He should have been a mind reader,
No two riders the same.
Pulling him this way, and pulling him that,
"Tell me, why don't he go?
The only command he understands,
Is the one word whoa."
St. Peter make room for a cayuse,
With a great big 7 H brand,
Lead him right up to the oat box,
In the happy hunting land.
Pull off his shoes St. Peter,
Give him a word of praise,
For he had provocation,
For his ungodly ways.
Bed him knee deep in pine needles,
Come away and let him feed.
Though he was only a Brewster cayuse,
He's had all the hell he needs.
September 25, 1958
By Elizabeth Motherwell
Ray Bagley of the Crowsnest Ranch, Coleman, says: "I galloped by the school house very fast three or four times, and that's all the schooling I had."
He is, however, the walking encyclopedia for Alberta lore. The story is told with a gentle philosophy and the poet's vision and insight. He also collects histories of the West and of Canada. When he is alone, which isn't too often because of a vast circle of friends, he reads poetry. Inspiration for his own verse comes in the night.
He is a milestone or two past his 80th year, but says: "There are many things I intend to do yet before I get my harp."
His parents came West in 1892, travelling by wagon from Iowa to Emerson, Man., from which point they shipped by CPR to Lacombe.
When he was 21, Mr. Bagley travelled back to Iowa on horseback taking the same pleasure from this 2,500 mile ride he has had every step of his path life.
He says he has spent most of his life "with a horse between my knees." His parents came from near the Missouri Line, "that's why people have to show me!"
Mr. Bagley is the poet of the Trail Riders of the Canadian Rockies and through Trail Riders his poems have been circulated around North America. For years he has been urged to jot down his philosophy as well as his verse, but he is too busy promoting current projects which keeps him travelling about Alberta.
His ambition is to see that land is set aside for bridle paths near growing cities. "Access should be made to trails while there is room still available so that those cooped up in the city can get out without being tied up in traffic."
No Trail Rider's evening is complete without a recitation of "The Bulgy Squaw," the poem for which Mr. Bagley is most famous, but horses are his first love, so we have selected "The Brewster Cayuse."
Mr. Bagley says he prefers horse to People. "I know what a horse will do, and nobody knows what people will do." And one more bit of philosophy: "No matter how high you climb, there is always another hill beyond. You seldom reach the goal. If you do, you find the striving is the reward, and not the goal."
This simple philosophy is perhaps the reason Mr. Bagley has retained a zest for living most men lose on the climb.
THE BREWSTER CAYUSE
By Ray Bagley
He was only a Brewster cayuse,
But he'd packed many a dude,
Some were kind and thoughtful,
Other only rude.
Everything wrong but the rider,
And the cayuse got the blame,
He should have been a mind reader,
No two riders the same.
Pulling him this way, and pulling him that,
"Tell me, why don't he go?
The only command he understands,
Is the one word whoa."
St. Peter make room for a cayuse,
With a great big 7 H brand,
Lead him right up to the oat box,
In the happy hunting land.
Pull off his shoes St. Peter,
Give him a word of praise,
For he had provocation,
For his ungodly ways.
Bed him knee deep in pine needles,
Come away and let him feed.
Though he was only a Brewster cayuse,
He's had all the hell he needs.
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