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COWBARN COWBOY
by
Charles E. Williams
He grew up dreamin' every American boy's hope,
To be a cowboy, ridin' across the prairies at a lope.
To be the sidekick of Hoppy, Gene, or Roy,
But he was born just a dairy farmer's boy.
Still, he dreamed the life of his heroes on the
screen,
Fightin' outlaws, killin' bad men, an' other deeds
he'd seen.
But you've got to play the hand you're dealt,
And life went on, no matter how he felt.
The cows he cared for he secretly scorned,
'Cus they were Holsteins, not the mighty Longhorns,
Like those the Duke and Clift drove up the trail in
"Red River,"
An' there's nothing about a dairy cow that sets your
heart aquiver.
He learned to get them from place to place,
Tho "drivin'" seemed too big a word for that case.
He'd faced down an' turned many a thousand pound cow,
Did it all on foot, an' got through it all somehow.
All the time thinkin' that to be a real cowboy would
be bliss,
'Cus in all his movies, he'd never seen Roy do this.
He'd love to live the life of Hoppy, Gene, and Roy,
But he was stuck just bein' a cowbarn cowboy.
He'd learned the basic tenet of the stock owner's
creed,
That you take care of the stock before your mouth you
feed,
An' clean the machines as soon as the milkin's
through,
Even though that's something Lash LaRue never had to
do.
Oh, to be born a cowboy would have been the best of
luck,
'Cus Randolph Scott never had to push a cow on to a
truck,
An' how you had to care for them cows each and every
day,
Not like a real cowboy, such as Johnny Mack Brown,
say.
And the horses that he used were just an old work
team,
As he drove them of cowponies he would dream.
The horse leather he knew the most about were
harnesses,
Not glamorous saddles like Tim Holt's or James
Arness's.
He learned that when you give your word, to it you
must be true,
An' around ladies is not the place to make the air
turn blue.
Oh, to live the free life of Hoppy, Gene, and Roy.
Too many rules and gotta's when you're a cowbarn
cowboy.
But he knew for sure he could never be a cowboy,
When the only gun and holster he could strap was a
toy.
Oh, he'd learned early what guns were really for,
An' first had pulled a trigger when he was three or
four.
They were to bring meat to the table, an' every
little while,
To dispatch a varmint er a pest in the most efficient
style.
But he'd never carried a pistol like the Lone Ranger
every day,
You used 'em when you had to, but otherwise they're
in the way.
So he grew a thinkin' that his dream would not come
true,
An' the closest he'd get to cowboyin' was to hear the
cattle moo.
He wouldn't get to ride the range with Hoppy, Gene,
or Roy,
He'd have to be content just bein' a cowbarn cowboy.
He thought he knew the land, every rock an' hole an'
tree,
But when it came to cavin', he found how wrong that
could be,
For them old cows would find some brand new hidin'
place,
That was somethin' that Joel McRay had never had to
face.
An' strainin' to help a heifer have it's first calf,
An' if you had bad luck, how it could even tear in
half.
That never happened to Stewart er Fonda er the rest,
He sure wanted to live upon their ranches in the
west!
An' Heston an' Peck had never had to treat fer flies,
Nor have a manure-laden tail switch across their
eyes.
It was a whole lot better to ride with Hoppy, Gene,
and Roy,
Than to struggle in the mud an' blood when you're a
cowbarn cowboy.
But as he got a little older, things began to change,
An' he learned a little more about life upon the
range,
He found the things he'd been taught, an' the lessons
that he'd learned,
Were really all along the things for which he'd
yearned.
No, his life would never be written by Kelton or
L'Amour,
But he'd gotten what he'd dreamed of, an' then a
little more.
No, he'd never ride the range with Hoppy, Gene, or
Roy,
But he'd become a man and was proud to be a cowbarn
cowboy.
This
poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the
author's written permission.
Charles E. Williams
Copyright © 2002
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