Jim Hamilton

Jim Hamilton

Lifetime rancher on the east slope of the Wolf Mountains in southeast Montana. Married to Marge for a long time. Three grown children, a son, Mike, with us on the ranch, and two daughters, successful in their own endeavor’s, but take an interest in the ranch and come and help when possible. We do our work horse back and try to preserve the old cowboy ways. My poetry is about what I know, ranching and the cowboy way of life. I strive for authenticity and am highly flattered if a real cowboy or rancher tells me, “I could sure see that happening when you told about it.” Most of my poetry is humorous, but I have several serious ones that I like to do in the right setting.
I have written and recited poetry for thirty years or more. Performed in many venues throughout Montana, Wyoming, North and South Dakota, and for the last ten or so years, at several gatherings in Alberta and Saskatchewan.

I have recorded three CD’s and am currently starting to work on another.

Jim Hamilton
HC 59 Box13
Decker MT 59205
406 757 2215


They’d been visitin’ on the internet, two lonely souls seeking mates
Searching for love in cyberspace, not content to wait on fate
She, a fortyish New York girl, on E Harmony, thirty four
he a Montana cowboy, claiming forty but maybe more
They’d both been around a bit, tho in different spheres of course
hers the disco scene and people, his, Coors beer and settin’ on a horse
But across the net the sparks just flew, as she envisioned her cowboy
her knowledge based on movies, Eastwood, Gene, and Roy
He’d not known a lot of girls, mostly spent his time upon the range
ridin’ horses, punchin’ cows, so it’s really not too strange
That he might embellish just a little, Hell, he didn’t see no harm
and his cowboy buddies all assured him he’d get by on cowboy charm
So they agreed to meet, said they’d learn no other way
so she stepped off the plane in Billings, on a chilly autumn day
As she waited for her luggage, her eyes cast round for Al
the cowboy who’d allowed that he might like a New York gal
But she also had embellished some, she weighed three hundred pounds
and if you went to measuring, she’s quite a ways around
One eye sorta looked off south, the other straight ahead
She’s not really from the Rockettes line, she’s more an Amazon instead
But old Al was not exactly as he’d portrayed upon the net
a chew reposed beneath his lip, by the few teeth remaining yet
Three days growth of whiskers, a greasy hat upon his head
run over boots and worn out Wranglers, and a nose that’s sorta red
But you know, they spied each other, and she gushed,”Why, you must be Al!”
he replied, “I am, and you must be the New York gal.”
Were they disappointed? Oh, I guess they maybe were
but they’d both been less than truthful, no more him than her
Now the ending to this story may just surprise you some
“cause she now calls him Sweety, and she’s his Sugar Plum
Marriage came before too long, the kids now number four
they’re just a happy cyber couple, so who could ask for more?
So if you’ve been seekin’ romance, and you haven’t found it yet
forget the discoes and the bars, just get on the internet!

Jim Hamilton


The average age of a rancher, is a bit north of sixty today
That makes me a bit north of north, so why keep on ranchin’ some say
They sorta think it’s all about money but they’re confusin’ money with wealth
Though money can sure be important, no way it compares with good health
I sure don’t think I’m immortal, Father Time’s clock is just tickin’ away
But there’s no need to worry about that, just get going and enjoy your day
I like takin’ care of my cattle, and by Gosh I still like a good horse
But I know I can’t ride like I used to, now I want ‘em kid gentle, of course
I enjoy feedin’ cows in the winter, now I don’t have to harness a team
Or use that cold handled pitchfork, now it’s all done with machine
I like workin’ cows early mornings, maybe a meadowlark singin’ his song
Sometimes it gets even better, one of the kids and a grandkid along
I don’t try to make an old cow, do something she doesn’t want to do
Nowdays I mostly outthink ‘em, something I finally learned how to do
I like living here in the west, where you still can shake a man’s hand
And reckon your deal’s OK, that won’t work in all parts of our land
Now my wife is all right with the deal, if she wasn’t we’d sure have to change
We both know it won’t last forever, for now we’re right at home on our range
Some of the things retired folks call fun, we’ve done as we’ve gone along
Cruise ships, foreign countries, some places we didn’t belong
I’ve gotten to fish in Alaska, and a far north Saskatchewan lake
We’ve seen some world class rodeo, we’re not done, there’s more to partake
I watch the sun rise in the morning, first coffee, my chair facing east
Sometimes Charley Russell paints me a good one, an old ranchers’ visual feast
Then it all fades away and I figure my day, I work out a sort of a plan
And you know what, as often as not, “I think, Jim, You’re a damn lucky man!”