COWBOY RHYMES: BOOTS 'N SADDLES

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"EVERYDAY BOOTS"

EVERYDAY BOOTS

These are my everyday boots,

The ones I work and kick around in

They may look fancy to you

But you aint' seen my sharkskins

Those are the boots I wear on Sunday

When I goes to pay my respects

I don't always tuck in my pant legs

When I sit, I let the tops peak out a little for effect.

Fancy fillagree and extra rows of stitching

Cut-outs, inlays, overlays and wings

Some say it's the art of manly footwear

But heck, we all know it's just cowboy bling

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

A REALLY BIG SADDLE

It takes two good sides of leather and then some

To make a decent saddle for a hoss

But when the beast is a giant and then some

You got to have at least a cow and a half.

He said he wanted a saddle for a very big horse

No one expected that he meant a Clydesdale

But the challenge was made and work began in due course.

To build a western saddle, large-scale.

Just magnify and telescope the pattern

Measure twice or thrice before you cut the hide

Remember the good will you will have earned

Forget the fact that you were tongue-tied.

Imagine the picture of a cowboy riding a horse that big

Just the mounting would be a thrill to view

Does he use a ladder or a scaffolding rig

The mental picture is difficult to construe.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

ANGEL BOOTS

I've heard St. Pete has another gate off down the hill

Where livestock souls can enter into the everlast.

And a special bunkhouse where angel craftsmen mill,

Makin' and fixin' whatever is needed for those who've passed.

Rowels on spurs on boots on angel feet.

Maybe you ain't seen it yet, but you'll get your chance.

Cowboy angels are up there ridin', ropin' and dallyin' real neat,

Only takin' out time to do-si-do at the Saturday night dance

It ain't so strange, to think of such a sight,

Angels wearing boots made out of cowhide.

And, you know, it is entirely possible and just might

Be the only way St. Pete would allow them to ride.

'Cause a flurry of flutterin' wings battin' around a cow heard,

Can cause a sure-fire stampede, disrupting heavenly tranquility.

And you know the Almighty would never concur

With such chaotic behavior in his facility.

And how would an angel wrangle the ghost heards in the sky,

If he didn't have a good and trusty cow pony?

And if he didn't have a good pair of boots, he sure couldn't ride.

So let's not forget to add a pair of spurs with rowels in harmony.

'Cause no western angel worth his salt would ever get by

With just a robe, a halo and a pair of wings.

Sure, they're necessary for floatin' across the sky,

But cowboy angels just feel plumb naked without the jingle and the ring.

And now they ain't got nothing to fear when it comes to cowboy gear.

'Cause Heaven is mighty full of top notch angel bootmakers,

Al Reynolds, George Martin, Charlie Bell and Tex Robin I hear.

So line up boys and get your orders in for a new pair of kickers.

You know all that I say is the honest-to-God, Heavenly truth,

But only in the Kingdom 'cause the devil don't wear no footwear.

Now there may be a few faltering farriers down there to trim his hooves.

So when you cross over and see boots have no fear but if you see farriers just beware.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

COWBOY BOOT TOPS

I asked my dear old grandad once when I was just a lad

Why it was that all the old-time cowboys wore boots with tall tops

What he had to tell me was more than I needed by just a tad

And now I'll tell you exactly what he said before he stopped

First, he looked at me like I didn't have a brain in my head

Then he asked me if I knew anything at all about the old west

I was dumbstruck for words and stood there like I was dead

That's when he began the yarn about boot tops and all the rest

He talked about the cattle drives from Texas up to the North

And all about the relocation of Southern slaves after the war

He mentioned a thing or two about crossing rivers back and forth

And how a cowboy did everything that was ever called for

A cowboy can't shirk his duty just because of an onery old steer

And he can't sluff off to cause some other bloke do his share

That goes for everything, whether you're ridin' in the front or the rear

A cowboy's got to stand up to whatever he finds, rattler, rustler or bear

"You know it wasn't always on dry land that they trailed those beeves

Sometimes they had to ford mighty streams wide awake or sound asleep

So why were the cowboy boot tops always made 18 inches to the knees?

Well, it was simply because most of the streams were 17 inches deep."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

HEAVENLY ATTIRE

Ever wonder what a cowboy looks like,

When he crosses over Jordan as his life here has expired?

Does he still need hat, boots & chaps?

Or is there some other official attire that is required?

How'd you know he was a cowboy angel,

If his outfit looked the same as all the rest?

If all the angels are wearing gowns and wings,

How'd you know he's not a gunsel on a quest?

They'll surely hang on to their best J.B. Stetson,

A good ol' friend that's been with 'em through and through.

But a cowboy's manly footwear may be somewhat altered,

To reflect the importance of the job he needs to do.

You see a cowboy angel can't go 'round Heaven flappin' giant wings all day.

There's just no need to fan the air and there's a danger as well.

Cowboys have eaten enough trail dust down on Earth.

So, they just plumb don't see no reward in turning Heaven into Hell.

Flutterin' about, to and fro and dartin' here and there,

Has never been the cowboy way.

Movin' fluidly and calmly, with purpose,

Is what gets a cowboy his pay.

So cowboy angel bootmakers have taken up the challenge.

Leave it to them to be creative and pitch in.

They put tiny little wings right where they ought to be,

On the cowboy's boot tops, hidden in the fancy stitchin'.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

THE SADDLE MAKER

Years ago I'd sit for hours watching him make this saddle

In the shop, up the hill, out behind Mom's

Sometimes he'd say sit here with both legs astraddle

We'd talk about horses, cowboys, dudes and Vietnam.

I'd sit and sit and then sit another spell

Each time he'd ask me, "now how does it feel?"

He'd carve and carve and then carve another spell

No hurry to finish, but it was sure going to be real.

Handmade saddles take their time and they tell you when

When it's time to cut, stamp, sew, stretch or lace

It takes a mighty patient artist to listen and pay attention

So when he's done you can show off that smile on your face.

Now I sit for hours in that same saddle and never tire

Little did I know it was being molded to my particular bend

He knew his target customer, the guy who would eventually be the buyer

I only thought I was helpin' out a friend.

Ridin' across the desert for fun or chasing after the herd

I'm always mighty grateful for the time and care that was built in

And I miss the long visits in the shop amongst the hides, skinned or furred

But not all were cowhides, sometimes we'd talk about sharkskin.

Now I look at that saddle and all the boots I had him make

There's that tooled and stamped canteen hanging on the hook

And the spur straps I need to leave and never take

Cowboy chinks with fringe - another from his playbook.

But what I treasure most is the way he taught me

Without me even knowing I was the learner

He just let me think I was passin' time, like drinkin' tea

He was that kind of a guy, a genuine friend, not a burner

He may have passed on but he's still here in spirit

And I have enough of his craft to remind me

Yes, they're all still talkin' - talkin' loud enough for all to hear it

They're sayin' "there'll never be another like him, just wait and see."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Al Reynolds - Master Bootmaker

NEW BOOTS

These are my new boots and the fellers all teases me

'Cause when I wear 'em, I smile and that pleases me

The boss paid me a bit extra 'cause I got more'n my quotas

So I only had to save up seven paydays in a row to get these new botas

I always tuck my trousers inside the tops to show off

At least that's what everybody seems to think when they scoff

I sometimes think it's more 'cause they're resentful

Without boots like mine their lives are mighty uneventful

A good pair of cowboy boots on your feet is a treat

And fancy-stitched tops will put you right in with the elite

I'll have to admit, I don't mind a bit, the sneers and jeers behind my back

I know the envy of fine manly footwear puts others on the attack

But there's another, more important, reason why I tuck my pant legs in

It's a health and safety reason, without a doubt, to protect more'n just my skin

Fancy boot tops can add extra years to your life, from all that I can surmise

The extra rows of colored stitching look just like camoflauge to a pair of rattesnake eyes

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

LEATHER MAGIC - CRAIGSLIST AD

Leather magic for saddles and tack
Loaded with plenty of elbow grease
Make your old saddles come back
Just one hundred twenty five apiece

Photos before and after
Tell the tale better than speech
On the fence or hangin' from the rafter
Prices are within your reach

Conditioning and minor repairs
Renew or replace as required
Detailing with utmost care
A hell of a hobby for a guy retired

Clean saddles is good horse sense
Meet in safety at public location
Will deliver at no extra expense
Contact me for a conversation

More than twenty years of know-how
Saddles, tack and collars for the breast
Treat 'em like they were still on the cow
Contact via Craigslist Relaymail is best

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Pages

BOOTS 'N SADDLES

POEMS BY TITLE

A

B

C

D

E

F

G

H

I

J

K

L

M

N

O

P

Q

R

S

T

U

V

W

X

Y

Z

COWBOY RHYMES

Contact Form