Information/Write-up
Russell “Bud” McKague lived the life he later recited. Long before he became known on poetry stages, he was a working cowboy in the truest sense — quitting school at fifteen to chase wild horses, riding young stock at Douglas Lake Cattle Company in British Columbia, and following the rodeo circuit across western North America.
Bud’s skill in the saddle was no small footnote. In 1960 he won the Saddle Bronc Riding Championship of British Columbia, establishing himself as one of the province’s top competitors during rodeo’s hard-traveling era. From Williams Lake to Florida, he and fellow riders logged miles the old way — competing in the summer and working winters in the logging camps to finance the next rodeo season. It was a rugged circuit that demanded toughness, timing, and instinct — the same qualities that would later define his stage presence.
After settling in Peachland, British Columbia, Bud worked as a rancher for several years. Eventually he and his wife Frances became involved in the Thoroughbred horse industry, but horses — and the culture around them — remained central throughout his life.
Parallel to his rodeo accomplishments was his emergence as one of Canada’s most respected cowboy poets. Bud was inducted into the BC Cowboy Hall of Fame in 2001 in the Artistic Category, recognition that placed him among the province’s most important cultural torchbearers of the ranching tradition. He was also the first Canadian invited to perform at the renowned Elko Cowboy Poetry Gathering, a testament to his standing within the international cowboy poetry community.
What set Bud apart was not theatrics but authenticity. With an extraordinary memory, he could recite lengthy narrative poems entirely from memory, including the works of Australian poet Banjo Paterson, delivering them with the rhythm and authority of someone who understood every word from lived experience. Fellow poets widely regarded him as one of the finest reciters of cowboy verse anywhere.
On June 15, 2002, at the Pincher Creek Saturday night show, Bud delivered what would become his final performance — two extended recitations from memory. The audience responded with a standing ovation, the only one of his career. Visibly moved, he offered an encore before leaving the stage. He passed away the following day, June 16, 2002.
-Robert Williston
On The Passing of a Poet
In Memory of Bud McKague, March 30, 1935 – June 16, 2002
Cowboy Poet and member of The BC Cowboys Hall of Fame
The passing of a mighty king,
leaves no greater hole.
For poets craft each song we sing,
and shape the nations soul.
A brave ballad of a bygone time,
or the beauty of her face,
He sculpts his masterpiece in rhyme,
sets each polished gem in place.
His was an ancient call,
and this gift he did not choose,
For Bards are driven
one and all,
by a most relentless muse!
To carry forth the tale of man,
such is the minstrels lot,
that great stories and emotions
should never be forgot.
Troy and Athens lie in ruin,
Phoebes and Rome are gone,
we may have forgotten the minstrels tune
But the poets words live on!
The passing of a mighty king,
Leaves no greater hole,
For poets craft each song we sing,
and shape the nations Soul!
Bud McKague was a great poet I will remember all my life.
Mike Puhallo
Cowboy Poet
Bud’s Last Ride
Now getting up each morning is a simple sort of task.
We never doubt the day ahead, and few questions we ever ask
I suppose it’s good we never know what’s in store round the next bend.
But I think there’s something let’s us know when we are near the end.
I think there’s something stored in us, could be a higher power.
They say things to close friends, you see, when they reach that final hour.
I lost a real good friend today as I stood closely by.
He asked for this final wish before he said good-bye.
Yes, he’d been a good old cowboy, no-one had doubted that.
His last request he asked of me: “Don’t let me die without my hat.”
I placed his hat upon his head, then laid it by his bed.
I closed the door and left the room, that’s the final words we said.
Yes, he’ll have that hat close by his side, yes, always have it near.
He’ll be all set to ride up there, just like he did down here.
He stood up on the stage that night; the crowd would stand and cheer.
Unbeknown to all of us, his time was drawing near.
It was in his finest hour, a perfect ending to a day.
Then in just a short time his life had slipped away.
Yes as I left the hospital and I knew old Bud was gone,
I thought how fast the years go by, a lifetime’s not that long.
They say that cowboys shed no tears, it’s not the cowboy way.
I’ll have to admit I bent the code when we lost old Bud that day.
He once told me to write a poem before this long sad day
He said, “Tell the folks just how it was the day I passed away.”
So now I’ve filled my last request, it’s coming to an end.
So just you rest and do your best until we meet again.
Frank Gleeson
Cowboy Poet
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