COWBOY RHYMES: BELIEVE IT OR NOT

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YOU BE DAMNED pt.2

Well, as the months went by and my eyes began to heal

The Mrs. softened some and began to believe my story was real

We had a few good laughs over the unbelievable ordeal

She began to see the humor in it with a certain amount of zeal.

I really thought my troubles had come to an end

But then her mother came for an unwelcomed visit - I won't pretend

My wife was recounting the story of my trip out west

And my mother-in-law was quite unimpressed.

"But why she would be angry about where you went is hard to understand"

"You said it was a business trip that you had planned"

"Just where was this western trip you took last July"

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

Much to my dismay I thought I'd seen the last but alas it wasn't so

The next Sunday, the parson looked at my eye and said, "Do I even want to know?"

I was tryin' to wiggle out of this embarassing conversation

But my wicked mother-in-law was filled with fascination.

She attempted to treat him to the miseries of my plight

Told him all about my trip out west and how she didn't think me very bright

The parson wanted to know where I'd been and asked for me to testify.

I said, "You Be Damned" but then I ducked and he hit her in the eye.

...

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MARA SANG OR ANA GRAMS

They tell me my problem is Dyslexia
But I always say I have Lysdexia
Sometimes my threes look like "E's"
And I get mixed up on my eights and "B's"

But that should be no problem with my pet Roy
Oh no, I've gone and done it again, oh boy
If I don't blow it with the "E" and the three
What I meant to say is: 'No problem with poetry'

Now some words are a real challenge
I have to hunt and hunt and scavenge
Words like "Gunsel Grin" are a real zinger
Oh no, what I meant to say was "Gunslinger"

I don't know why the eye can't talk to the mind
Or is it they don't talk the same language all the time?
Some people think it's amusing when done at the drop of a hat
But it's no fun to struggle and struggle and then fall flat

It's not always easy to make "copyboy tower" rhyme
And still keep the meter and the storyline
So if I twist it around and don't blow it with the three
I can get it to say "Cowboy Poetry".
...

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HOW'D YOU SAY THAT

If you ever go to Prescott
Don't say it wrong and be obvious
Say it like Biscuit
Or quickly lose your audience

In Texas, if you go to Burr-NET
They know you're a dude
Texans all say BURN-it.
Anything else is just plain rude

Up north they all say "Peer"
Black Hills poets know not to say Pea-AIR
If it don't rhyme with beer
Best not say it unaware

Back east they like to say it's HOW-stun
For some uknown reason
They want Houston to rhyme with cowtown
But we all know they don't aim to be pleasin'

Now poetic license don't mean much
When a mispronounced name
Leaves you out of touch
And keeps you out of the hall of fame

So, a word to all poets, everywhere
Write what you know to be sure
Be smarter than a horse's derrier
If you wanna be the Poet Du Jour

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A COWBOY ON THE PITCHER'S MOUND

Spring training or Spring roundup was the battle
To throw the ball at the batter or gather the cattle
With his first small herd, doing both was conceivable
And with his Little League schedule, it was believable

But as the size of his herd grew, so did his skill on the mound
Sooner or later, one or the other had to give ground
Once the pro scouts had a good look, he was quickly signed
And so he was a pitcher, on the mound, with a cowboy mind

A wonder boy with a ball and a glove and a desire to win
A cowboy attitude with dedication and a winning grin
He set records that are still unbeaten to this day
A cowboy who showed the world how baseball is played

He holds another record too and, so far, is the only person in this class
It shouldn't be so strange, 'cause both baseball and cattle need grass
The only person ever inducted into both cowboy and baseball halls of fame
If you haven't guessed, or peeked ahead, I'll tell you, Nolan Ryan is his name

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MY NAME IS TEX

A stranger came into the little Montana town one day

With his big-horned saddle, he certainly looked out of place

He stepped off his horse and ambled over to the cafe

"Hey stranger," said the sheriff, "I don't think I recognize your face."

They exchanged words and it was friendly enough

But when the sheriff asked him for his name and he said, "Tex"

"Well," the sheriff said, "this is a nice town and we don't want anything rough."

"Watch your drinking and no extra aces hidden in the decks."

"You seem like a decent sorta feller but I'm gonna need to know more"

"If your name is Tex, is the great Lonestar state the place you hang your hat?"

"No," I've never been there," said the stranger as he walked through the swingin' doors.

"Well,” said the lawman, “maybe you're not who you seem and we oughta have a little chat."

"Tell me," the sheriff insisted, "just where you are from?"

"I come from Baton Rouge," the stranger replied, "pert' 'near next door don't you expect?"

"Well," said the man with the badge, "if you're from Louisianna, calling yourself "Tex" sounds kinda dumb"

"Yeah," replied Tex, "but when I called myself 'Louise' I didn't get any respect"

...

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WHY MOVIES ARE NOT REAL

Ever watch a cowboy movie on the screen

It's a dusty, dirty trail with three thousand cattle in the scene

Just over there are three dozen or more ponies on the lot

Two score of stinkin' cowpokes, a ramrod, a cook and dinner in the pot

A bath? Who takes a bath on a trail drive?

Stench so bad, a skunk would die

Hold up the herd a day for water and grass

Imagine the cow patties from three thousand cattle en masse

Now that's just the talent on the movie set

There's hundreds of extras don't forget

Then there's the film crew, that's another fifty percent

And the garbage pile over by the canteen tent

Actors galore, producers, directors, consultants and more

Drama school dropouts and Hollywood wannabes hoping to score

The whole area looks like a circus convention

But knowing all this should not give you any apprehension

Remember what I have told you and keep it all in mind

The next time you watch a movie of the Western kind

You'll know it's not authentic, you'll know it's not real

Cause there's not a single fly in the world with an agent who can make a movie deal.

...

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ROPIN' TWINS

I'll bet you didn't know there was a ropin' club for twins
It's not a very good deal, 'cause they never split their wins
The money all stays in the family fund for expenses
They rope for fun and glory and neverr come to their senses

The firstborn twin is always the header by right
The next, gets the healer position by the passage of rites
Identical or fraternal makes no differencee in the guild
Twin riders shoot out the gate and then two loops get filled

I'll bet you've never seen twin ropers on twin horses either
Once you hear the gasp from the crowd, you'll need a breather
It's like looking at a smoke 'n mirrors, trick pony show
Twelve legs, four arms and two ropes goin' for the dough

Every once in a while, triplets will join on the sly
The third in line hides out until the time is right
He slips in as a ringer giving one of the others a break
It's cheating, every which way, when there's big money at stake

Even twins have a hard time telling other twins apart
It's easy to be fooled when you're conned from the start
The third man is the fifth ace hidden in the garment
Heaven help us when quaddruplets bring in a fourth varmint

It's a long-time favorite sport - older than ropin' by far
Twins foolin' us to skew the outcome and set the world ajar
But when it comes to ropin' and high-dollar jackpot cash
When the ruse is discovered they're sure to get the lash

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KIT

From the very beginning, he was called "Kit"
A smaller size of his namesake on that Christmas Eve
Chrisopher Houston Carson was just a little bit
By the time he was eight, he would learn to grieve

With his father gone, he was sent to apprentice
A saddlery on the edge of the frontier
Seeking a life that was momentous,
He headed west, packing all his gear

Hated Indians at first but loved them in the end
Married and had children by a few
Softened by age, time and a godsend
The Carson way of counting coup

Regrets, he had 'em for sure
When Jicarilla Apaches killed Mrs. White
If only he could have saved her
Advice ignored, but in the end, he was right

He spoke fourteen different Indian tongues
And mastered sign language all right
He understood the talk of the Indian drums
But, for all his accomplishments, he never learned to write

Famous and celebrated beyond his wishes
Exaggerated stories of his deeds
A trapper and hunter of game and fishes
He liked to wear the Indian beads

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CITY BUS STOP

At the corner of Main and Bishop
The twelve noon Transit bus pulled up
Then we all stepped up to the door
First in line was a big, tough sergeant from the Corps

But politeness and etiquette ruled his behavior
And he stepped aside for a pretty blonde's favor
She was small and cute and well dressed
In a short, tight leather skirt and silk vest

She tried and tried, but her skirt was too tight
She just couldn't get her foot up that high
Realizing a line of anxious people were waiting,
She thought fast about how to stop agitating

She reached behind and unzipped her skirt
Just a couple of inches, hoping that would work
But, try as hard as she could, it just wasn't enough
Hoping no one would see, she gave the zipper another small tug

Hungry people and hurried people all running out of time
The longer she took, the more people gathered in line
Once more she tried to sneak the little zipper looser
Someone from the back hollered, "Just goose her"

Our gallant giant of a Marine standing right behind
Figured she needed a helping hand, so by design
He lifted her up with one big hand around her waist
But as her feet touched the floor, she turned and slapped his face

"How dare you put your hands on me?" she demanded
"I don't know you, and you have no right to be so free-handed"
"Well, excuse me, ma'am, I'm awful sorry," the sergeant whispered
"I thought sure we'd be friends after the third time you undid my zipper"

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