BARNS 'N YARNS

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~YOU BE DAMNED~

You wouldn't believe this story except that I'm here to tell you it's true

Just how it come to be that I have two eyes black and blue

My eyes are naturally a shade between brown and green

But after what I've been through, you won't believe what I've seen.

I was on my way for a business trip to a little town out west

A place where strange town names are enthusiastically expressed

Places with names like "Nowhere," "Nothing," and "Accident"

Why I've even heard of towns called "Ding Dong," "Why" and "Sacrament".

So you'll have to believe my sincerity when I tell you

The name of this town is honest-to-God, absolutely true

To the unaware, it may sound strange, weird or funny

But you can bet it's authenticity is as good as money.

I was standing at the ticket counter, waiting my turn in line

I finally got up to window for the train on track number nine

When the agent said, "Tell me where and a ticket I will not deny"

So, I spoke right up and said "You Be Damned" and then he hit me in the eye.

After my trip was over and I was headed back to my little missy

I tried my best to find a way to explain and keep her from a tizzy

She was a church-goin' woman and she didn't approve of fighting

But there was no way to keep my damaged eye from her sighting.

She took one look at me and said, "I knew it, I knew you'd get into a fight"

"By all the Saints I should have known not to trust you out of my sight"

"Just where in the world have you been and don't even try to tell me a lie"

So I sheepishly told her, "You Be Damned" and she hit me in the other eye.

                         ...

© 2024 Brian McNeal

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BACKSEAT BUSTER

Now you've heard about the folly

Of the famous horse race

Between Ol’ Tenbrooks and Molly

That happened in that Southern place

A place they call Kentucky

Where old man Simpson's from

The time he was not so lucky

When the race was finally done

Well old man Simpson swore it's true

His bet on Tenbrooks was a winner

But when he cashed in on his due

He found he'd been taken by a skinner

Instead of cash on the barrelhead

His payout was a real cluster fluster

When he found he got the offspring instead

And that's how we got Backseat Buster

We raced old Buster at every chance

Up and down the countryside

Buster never won, not even close by a glance

No, he never won, but oh how he tried

We hauled him around in the car

To keep him from wearing down

Folks always thought it a little bizarre

In each and every new town

They always asked why he rode the back seat

And they were mighty surprised when I'd tell the secret

It's not becasue we wanted to save his feet

It was because he hadn't learned to drive yet

© 2024 Brian McNeal

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HOW A COWBOY BECAME A BILLIONAIRE

Now Slim and Curly were two jaspers always schemin' to make a haul

Why, I remember when neither one of 'em had any sense at all

Now they're fixin' to shoot their wad on some dodge to make a fortune

And somehow they figured we'd all want in for a small portion

Seems the two had been to town and saw their golden dream

Kids forkin' over hundreds of dollars for ripped up jeans

Everywhere they looked, the style was to have holes in your pants

But to their surprise, they learned they were comin' all the way from France

"Well, if they ain't got no better sense than to spend good money on trash,"

"Then, I guess we'd better help 'em along with their senseless task,"

Said Curly to Slim as they were lopin' back to the ranch

"We'd be bigger fools not to help ourselves to this cash flow avalanche"

"Not since the days of '49 when Sutter found that gold"

"Did a feller have a chance like this before he was too old,"

Said Curly when he came bustin' through the bunkhouse door

Creatin' a huge commotion and stampede-like uproar

"Fellers," he said, "You remember when I brushed by that big Saguaro"

"And ripped my new britches right fom yesterday into tomorrow?"

"Well now, if you'all will follow my lead and grab your spare pair"

"I've got a plan to trade our cowman wages for that of a billionaire"

He tied our britches to the buckboard sides and ran 'em past the cactus

Then he sold those ripped up jeans to the mercantile in town just for practice

With a little reinvestment of the profits for more supplies

He ran an assembly line rope around the cactus like a clothesline

Soon, we had money in the bank in town and more hidden in a bank off-shore

All the kids in the country were wearin' these cowboy cactus jeans for sure

Sellin' like hotcakes was an understatement of the greatest magnitude

But we really made our fortunes convincing them to get those bare knees tattooed

Denim blue and Levi gold, were the colors in the tattoo gun

Soon it wasn't just knees, but all bare skin was fun

Thanks to our cowboy enterprise, we have inked-up circus freaks running loose

Now if we could just find a profitable way to make 'em all vamoose

If those kids only knew what happens to cows with brands on their hide

Oh if they could only know the end result, they'd quickly run and hide

If Slim and Curley could just find a cannibal tribe with something to trade

I'm sure we could bargain for a good supply of tasty dishes, ready-made

© 2024 Brian McNeal

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INLAWS AND GUN LAWS

I heard the other day where someone was upset.

Seemed something happened recently that was tragic.

He didn't think anyone should ever forget.

And somehow a new set of laws should appear like magic.

Now the occasion in question.

The one that caused all this consternation.

Was the ceremony of a marriage session.

Where the guests were engaged with much libation.

The topic of gun laws was on everyone's lips.

Some were for and some were against.

The words poured out in between sips.

Some were mild and some were incensed.

Being one of those in attendance at the event.

I thought it quite humorous at best.

Even if the majority expressed dissent,

With one certain individual becoming a pest.

I think I noticed right off the bat.

What the crux of the problem was. 

And why this old coot was acting like a polecat.

But I didn't want to be the one to spotlight his flaws.

Well, come to find out, the one with the confusion.

Was a bit hard of hearing without his helpers.

Which may be one reason for his delusion.

Along with being among the set of elders.

I don't know why automatic in-laws would be unwanted.

Unless they're more out than in.

Or why the notion would make one feel daunted.

But I guess it may depend upon where you've been.

He'd read earlier where the governor had proposed new gun laws.

And I suppose that was what was on his mind.

When the bride introduced him to his brand new in-laws.

And he didn't capture the words quite right the first time.

© 2024 Brian McNeal

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HOW BIG SHOULD A BARN BE?   

I asked my grandad how big to build the barn

And he told me, one hundred by forty is the size

And it don't matter if it's for horses, cows or corn

I always liked to get his advice

I asked him if I should build it out of wood or brick

He told me, that would greatly depend

On how good I am at arithmetic

And how well I can make the numbers bend

Wood is a faster build and it costs less

But brick and mortar will last forever

How many barns did I want to possess?

But the size is still the same, however

Grandad always had a way of making you answer your own questions

Like when I asked him how long a horse's legs should be

He said, "that would d'pend upon your own perceptions"

"But, I s'pose, long enough to reach the ground, doncha think?"

Then I asked the two words he hated most

Like a three-year-old, I asked him "why?"

"Why did it have to be one hundred by forty," I coaxed

And "When" is the best time to try?"

"It's always best," he said, "to build it before you need it"

"That's the 'when,' but that other that you wondered?"

"Well, when you do yer cyphers and find the answer, no matter how ya reach it."

"It's 'cuz, it ain't a dern sight cheaper if you built it forty by a hunderd" 

...

© 2024 Brian McNeal

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MASHED POTATOES

She had hair of flaxen yellow

Cute as a bug but not awful bright

She was waitin' on another fellow

So I just rolled my own and found a light

The cafe was crowded but she finally came to me

Asked me what I thought I'd like

I'd been studying the menu since three

And had begun to think the cook was on strike

I gave her my order and asked her to rush

Should have known better with the size of that crowd

So I backed up and ordered fries and an orange crush

Just before the guy in the corner got overly loud

He asked her to come over to his booth

And told her he wasn't satisfied with his meal

He was ill mannered with a lack of couth

As a grit-grinder he was sure 'nuff the real deal

"You see my meal here on this plate?"

"There's a good-sized piece of steak"

"The carrots and the roll I already ate"

"But these potatoes - there must be a mistake"

"I know I specifically ordered more mashed potatoes"

"And this little dab just don't look quite right"

"Did I not say it plainly? What was it you didn't know?"

She said, "No, that's not it, I heard you alright"

"I think I told the cook what you told me"

"Just the way that I should"

"I said give him extra-mashed potatoes please"

"So, I think they've mashed them as much as they could"

© 2024 Brian McNeal

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SMEARS, SMUDGES SPOTS 'N BLOTS

I've been slobered on but we call it a kiss

I've got hoof marks on my britches from a near miss

The elbow on my shirt is torn from a cow kick

And I've had mud dried on so long I could make a brick

I've been decorated like a Christmas tree

From tubing a colicy horse who didn't agree.

And road apple pie smeared all over my sleeve,

Checkin' to see if the mare was ready to conceive

The Betadine bottle broke just as I picked it up

Had a heck of a time convincing folks it wasn't a diarrhea mishap

I've had my share of Kopertox fingers of metallic green

Don't know how it got on my white shirt without being seen

Spilled tractor fuel all over my church clothes 

When the horse stepped on the filler hose

New washed shirt hangin' on the line to dry

Mule chases the goat and drags it through the pigsty

Ridin' the range and stop at the creek for a cool drink

Horse kicks at a fly and in I go, at least that's what I think

I have just one thing to say if you see me wearing a clean suit with no sweat

It just simply has to be because I ain't been to the barn yet

© 2024 Brian McNeal

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THE DRONE DOGFIGHT

Did these old cowboy ears hear it right?

Packages delivered by drones? - What a sight!

Imagine seeing your neighbor's confidentials in the air

Swinging from a long cable without a care

As the package enters the space above the yard

King, the faithful watch dog is barking hard

What is this strange contraption on the attack,

Swinging through the air and heading toward the back?

Barking, jumping, snapping at the cable

King want's to eat it alive, if he's able

The drone pilot watches from his console,

With a wide-angle camera mounted below

Safely tucked away, thousands of miles distant

He plays with the dog, but King's humor is non-existent

Drop it down, swing it 'round, then jerk it back up

He's having fun, but King's no longer a pup

Like David against Goliath, King was determined to whip the foe

No drone anywhere can beat a guard dog - at least not without ammo

King studied that monster like a hawk watches rabbits

And it wasn't long before he discovered the flying robot's habits.

It used to be squeeky things, but now intruders are his favorite toy

He's got a job to do and good strong teeth to deploy

The pilot takes a sip of soda and in a moment, loses control

Better to stay focused on the job when King's on patrol

King grabs a full grip on the cable and locks on tight

The drone tries to retrieve but King was too quick to bite

Now the extra weight of cargo and dog is just too much

They never bargained on King having a drone for lunch

Down came the drone smashing hard in the yard

Snarling, snapping and shaking that thing with no-holds-barred

King was defending his territory just like he was taught

A thousand miles away, a drone pilot was more than fraught

Fruit-of-the-Looms scattered all over the battlefield

Now drones don't have a black box, so evidence is concealed

Crash inspectors from the store pick up the parts

The cockpit video reveals a true guard dog's heart

So let this be a lesson to drone pilots just out of school

It's not a game like when you and your friends had to be cool

This is a real job with real outcomes and consequences

In the investigation hearing, you'll be defenseless 

But King will come out OK and be rewarded for his efforts

A big steak dinner and an atta-boy are his just deserts

And now he's got all those jockey shorts to pillow his head

Plus a pile of drone bones burried out behind the shed.

Yes, drones delivering packages is a sight to behold

A comedy of life with a punchline that can be foretold

A delivery drone in a dogfight just can't beat King

With a store-bought package swinging on a string.

© 2024 Brian McNeal

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THE YARD SALE

I went to a yard-sale just the other day

I saw it advertised so I went straight away

I ran into another cowboy doing the same

We started palaverin ‘bout this yard-sale game

He was lookin’ at a real “antique find”

Checkin’ it over, should he grab it or leave it behind?

I peeked at the sticker. Just ten bucks was the price

“Elbow grease and some paint,” I said, “and you’d have something nice"

“Yup, exactly my thoughts,” he said as he calculated

“A little scraping, to remove the rust and I’ll be elated”

“Then a good pressure wash and some sanding by hand"

"Followed by about fifty bucks worth of spray paint cans”

I could see him mentally trying to justify this to his wife

I know the look cause I’ve done it myself once or twice

Time, material costs and the original ten dollar investment

Somewhere around a hundred bucks would be my assessment

“I’ll bet by the time I’m done with all this in about three weeks"

"I’ll have somethin’ a lot bettern’ this old, fallin-down antique”

I contemplated that he was probably right and was just about to say so

When his wife swooped in from across the yard like a Texas tornado

She looked at his “find” and the huge smile on his face

She knew what he was thinking and she had the perfect place

It was plain to see that she’d thought this all through like a scholar

“You fix this up nice,” she said, “and we’ll sell it in the paper for twenty dollars.”

                                            ...

© 2024 Brian McNeal    Published 4/12/2024    NATIONAL COWBOY POETRY GATHERING FAN PAGE

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WOOLIES

I heard a guy just the other day

And I couldn't really believe what he had to say

I looked him all over, up and down

And I knew he was a dude from town

So I don't know why he said he was wearin his woolies

And I began thinking he's the kind who would tease

A dude from town certainly didn't need chaps of any kind

But wool chaps in the desert wasn't what I expected to find.

I know cowboys up north who wear woolies to stay warm

And a guy on stage who uses 'em for a uniform

But this guy sure didn't have any chaps of any kind

So I figured I'd humor him, just to keep my peace of mind.

I asked him where he might have acquired them

And he said, "Well, I'd tell ya mate, but you probably never heard of Bongaree-Woorim"

He was dead-on right but I didn't want to give him satisfaction

So I faked my knowledge just to see his reaction.

I said, "yeah, everybody there wears woolies, right"

He looked suprised which gave me delight

I thought he'd taken the bite but then he came back with "They only cost me a few blue swimmers"

Just then I realized my prospects of keeping up the ruse were getting a lot dimmer

I told him I was doing my best to get his goat

Because I knew better. A good pair of woolies should cost at least a c-note

He looked at me with a quizzical gaze

Then said, "Sorry Mate, I don't understand, I've only been in your country a couple of days."

I suspected by the funny way he sounded

That he was a stranger and was confounded

I said, "I don't mean to doubt you but I can't doubt my own eyes"

"And there ain't no woolies on those town-dude thighs"

"Well", he said, "I beg to differ but since I'm new here, I'll let you tell me what you think woolies might be"

"Every cowboy knows," I replied. "They're a pair of chaps cut from the hide of a sheep"

"They're worn hair-side out, mostly in cold country, to keep a cowboy's legs warm and dry"

"That is, unless you're a singing cowboy on stage with Riders in the Sky"

He began to chuckle and said, "I knew that all along mate so that's a goodun on ya"

"I was lettin' you go just to see how far I could string along wid ya"

"Down under in Aussieland, where I come from, it's your pants, shirt and vest."

"Well, don't that beat all?" I said, "here you are thinking you'll get the better of me but you ain't even close to best."

"Your jeans are made of cotton, your shirt is polyester and your vest is pure silk," I explained.

"There ain't no wool on you at all so I don't see how it could be as you have just claimed." 

"No worries mate," he half-chimed, "every Woolworth store down under is called a 'Woolie' so it's just natural to say we're wearing our woolies when we have new duds."

That's about the time I invited him down to the corner bar to blow the froth off a few suds.

...

© 2024 Brian McNeal  Published, 4/13/24 National Cowboy Poetry Gathering Fan Page

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