New York Troopers - History
Preserving the Past for Those Who Follow





We have heard a lot thru song and verse

From Poets and Bards immortal

Expressing their thoughts ‘long various lines

An’ extolling great deeds of the faithful

Their words are nice there is no doubt

And the language they use sublime,

But now I unfold with feelings untold

What I think of a friend of mine.

He is not a man or a woman, you know,

Or a dog or animal rare,

But a horse with a stride and a head held high,

Old Bud, the Pride of the Fair.

Docile and meek with hide so sleek,

When his masters by his side,

Of younger days gone with the tide.

Not just a horse is this animal great,

But one who has been thru the mill,

Of circus and range he could tell so much

If speech in him were instilled.

In stable or corral, on parade or show,

He stands out like a ray of light,

One glance at the herd singles out Old Bud,

He’s one in a million by right.

A hard days work brings him to his oats

Which he so richly deserves,

And if he is called before he rests,

He is ready as tho’ nothing disturbs.

A tale’s told on the ranch where born,

Of a hazardous job to be done,

Where horse picked, could not be licked,

By any work under the sun.

A Buffalo bad corralled at the ranch,

Broke loose one stormy night,

And roamed the range a furious beast,

Before whom all animals took flight.

So you see for this need, was a stalwart steed,

That fear did not mean a thing,

As it meant life to the boys who started pursuit,

They sought a horse not unwilling.

Of the many horses for work on this ranch

Which is known as the 101,

Old Bud was picked as the horse to go,

After the Buffalo on the run.

Did he hold back, or dance or prance,

Or show any anger at being taken away

From his oats and bed, but no, instead,

He started as tho’ the break of day.

He seemed to sense his duty,

His eagerness came to the fore,

He stood there ready, awaiting the word,

Ever ready to do his chore.

He did the job well it’s needless to say,

Quite weary after strenuous work,

And once again he came to the front

And not a part of the job did he shirk.

From range to show this noble steed went,

Where he captured the eyes of the crowd,

And his praises were sung long and loud.

He could garner the prizes from coast to coast,

As he outshone the best of them all,

But his fortunes were cast with an outfit at last,

Seven years ago this fall.

His record and looks, and fast flying hoofs,

Caught the eye of an expert very soon,

Now he’s set and you can just bet,

He will be contented for many a moon.

H heads a flock of the Spotted Group,

Of horses of World renown,

He must be an Ace to lead such a class,

Whose prowess and fame are well known.


There’s sure a reward for this splendid beast,

No one can gainsay that fact,

For faithfulness, friendliness and lovable traits,

Old Bud these thing’s does not lack.

When called he’s ready, what a wonderful trait,

Could anyone expect anymore?

Old Bud was and is the cream of his breed,

Full of energy and stamina galore.

He’s there when you want him, ready to go,

Whether parade, trick riding or show,

And where can one find an animal like this,

Who complains not of work he’s endured.

So hats off to Old Bud, the minute horse,

Like the spirit of Seventy-Six,

No matter how far this world you travel,

You’ll find none like him exists.

I take great pride calling Old Bud my own,

A horse who spins on a dime,

As he is to me a friend worthwhile, This lovable horse of mine.



JUNE, 1934