No Pain, No Gain
They told me hard work builds a man real tall,
no pain, no gain — I heard it down the hall.
But out here pain arrives before the gain,
and the gain rides off to somebody else’s rain.
My back gave out in August, boots gave out in May,
the cattle market took what little sense I’d saved away.
I got the pain, the drought got the gain,
and the banker drove to Houston in the driving rain.
The vet bill came on Tuesday, same day as the freeze,
I signed my name in ink I borrowed, bent there on my knees.
They say the Lord provides — and maybe that is true —
but His provision’s always late, and interest accrues.
So here I stand with blisters, debt, and sunburned pride,
a horse that limps, a fence that leans, and God on my side —
though I suspect the Lord’s got other cowboys too,
all broke, all blessed, all owing something overdue.
The land don’t care what you put in,
she takes the sweat and keeps the sin.
You plant in faith, you pray for rain,
and still come out with just the pain.
They talk of gain like it’s a horse you break and ride,
but gain’s more like a jackrabbit — it runs and hides.
No pain, no gain, the old ones said with knowing grins —
they never told you gain might come to other men.
I’ve philosophized from fence posts, from the tailgate and the ditch,
and what I’ve learned is this: the pain is yours,
the gain is for the rich.
But come the dawn I’ll saddle up and ride out all the same,
not because I’m winning, no — I just forgot to quit the game.
Out here you get the pain, you get the gain,
and then the bill arrives — and you go out and do it all again.
No pain, no gain… but out here you might get both and still owe money.
I’m Alan Nafzger. Appreciate ya!
Last Updated on April 11, 2026 by Alan Nafzger