TOMBSTONES 'N TUMBLEWEEDS

 



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TUMBLEWEED TERROR

The young cowboy had taken a part time job pumpin' gas
It was the off season for cattle and it cost money to buy grass
A cold and blistery Wyoming winter day was nothing new
Fighting off the boredom as the few people wanting gas drove through

A young blonde gal with Illinois license plates pulled up and rang the bell
She was at the self-serve pumps, where it was cheap, but she couldn't tell
Being blonde had it's benefits the way she saw things
She was a princess and the cowboy was certainly no king

Trying to talk sense to an Eastern wanna-be queen is ludicrous
But it's just enough to make a young cowboy become unscrupulous
She wanted the cheaper fuel clearly marked on the five foot sign
And somehow she thought her entitlement meant he'd be obliged

So the lad pumped her tank full of premium leaded high-test
And engaged her in polite conversation like he did for all the rest
He learned this was her very first trip out West and she was beguiled
She held the image of gunfights, saloons and reputations defiled

Too many Western movies and TV shows had corrupted her reality
She was disenchanted with paved streets and traffic like the Grand Prix
Too much modernism and progress had concealed her ideal
She wanted to see the wild and wooly West with all it's charm and appeal

Just then, a Russian thistle, better known as a Wyoming tumbleweed, rolled in on the wind
She looked like she'd seen a ghost, an apparition. It shook her and put her in a tailspin
She'd never seen one live and in person. They don't have them on the streets of Chicago
She'd only seen them on the silver screen with John Wayne, Gabby Hayes and Marlon Brando

So the young cowboy knew he had her at last and he played it for all it was worth
He led her on, told her it was only the beginning. What was yet to come was worse.
Soon the Indians would come with war paint, tomahawks and blood curdling screams
Stealing, burning, taking hostages and generally butchering a young blonde girl's dreams

Well, she turned that '69 Charger around and headed back for Illinois like a scared rabbit
Traveling East as fast as she could go, hoping to escape the carnage of the redman's habit
He finally lost sight of her taillights in the dust as he held his sides with laughter and glee
A tenderfoot filly terrified out of her wits at the sight of a Western tumbleweed


© 2025 Brian McNeal




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OLD TOP RAIL 


Oh the many stories I could tell
Of the beasts contained within
The docile and the meek
And those who came from hell

Of the days I held the best
The horses of the plains
The mustangs of the mountains
And them who came to tame the West

When old Tomahawk Jim broke his back
Crashing down from a sunfish buck
Landing hard like a Scud 
In a Persian Gulf attack

Of the years of searing sun
Burning away my youthful looks
And the years of brand new little tykes
Climbing to the top, just for fun

Yes, the stories I could tell you
So many good ones on the list
Which ones would you like to hear?
Just pick a few, one or two, from the menu

Oh, if only. If only I had a voice
You would be mesmerized
Fascinated with the escapades
Of horses here by force and cowboys here by choice


© 2024 Brian McNeal



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GUNPOWDER FOR BREAKFAST

Well, it had been widely circulated around the ranch
If a feller were to sprinkle gunpowder all over his meal
Every day of his life, he'd live well past his heavenly chance
It's what everyone talked about and believed to be real

Well, 'ol Gus said his family were not long-livers
Said his grampa died young at just fourty seven
His own father was only fourty three when he got the shivers
So he might as well postpone his own trip to heaven 

Gunpowder Gus is what we called him the rest of his days
He put that stuff on his breakfast every morning at sunrise
He lived a long a fruitful life and died at 96 years of age
He swore the gunpowder was not the cause of his demise

It's what kept him going and added years to his life's run
We had his memorial service in the high school auditorium
He left behind 6 children, 24 grand children and 60 great grand children
But what we'll remember most was the 16 foot hole he left in the crematorium
...

© 2025 Brian McNeal




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DESERT SNOWMAN

If you think he felt out of place 
That snowman with the smile on his face
On a blistering summer desert day
Just wait till you see him driving the sleigh

If you think that perhaps he didn't belong
That yard-art built to stand up strong
Next to the rusty lizard and armadillo
Just waitin' for the bloomin' rebar ocotillo

With black top hat and turquoise necktie
He never speaks - always tongue tied
Don't go near, he'll prick you sure
Better walk around, take the scenic detour 

Stately standing watch over all the yard 
Magnificently, like the Queen's Royal Guard, 
Along with the saguaro, intruders get double-teamed
Home security from a snowman made of tumbleweeds

So, if you think you've seen it all and there ain't no more
You ain't been down to Arizona's West Coast shore
Whether he be painted white or left au naturel
He'd be the perfect sentry if he wasn't so damned flammable 


© 2025 Brian McNeal



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THE BUSHWHACKER

You're looking at a master at skullduggery
I've been a student of the best teachers
Starting out with the course in humbuggery
Now I'm a product of supersedure

It's a lonely, dirty job
Laying in wait for hours
Hoping for a sucker to rob
Waiting to see if it's you or me who gets the flowers

Sometimes the payoff is worth it
An easy buck if they know what's good
A pistol shot if they prefer it
Stand and deliver, please, if you would.

Sometimes it's a downright bust
A coach hauling mail or freight
What I'm looking for is the upper crust
Sometimes I just need to dangle a little bait.

Sometimes I have a crew of one or two
But I prefer to work alone for many reasons
It's easier to keep one's face hidden from view
And easier when it comes to splittin up the pleasin's

I'm a polite outlaw with no intent to ruin
I tip my hat to the ladies as they pass
Buy a round for the gents in the saloon
And carry myself like a member of the upper class

The sheriff thinks he knows who I am
I planned ahead and got some insurance
I took his lovely daughter to my hand
Thinking she might provide some deterrence

But she found my mask and loot
Figured me for the scoundrel that I was,
Ratted me out and gave me the boot
Now I'm about to hang for probable cause

So if you wanna be a bushwacker and live to tell the tale
Never give your trust to a sheriff's handsome daughter
She'll have the noose around your neck before you get to jail
While she's spending all your loot come hell or high water




© 2025 Brian McNeal



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HITLER WAS A HERO

Many had tried but failed
Only one got it done
Plots and schemes veiled
Knife, bomb or submachine gun

Courage, secrecy and planning
The best of them gone awry
Eyes open, always scanning
The best way for Hitler to die

Taking care of business
Giving the world his last contribution
Asking no forgiveness
He administered his own final solution

In the end, with a friend
By his own hand, it would appear so
With nothing left to defend
Hitler became a hero



© 2025 Brian McNeal



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