Folks' Poems

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Facsimile Cowboy

I was lookin’ for a job, and they told me in town,
To head out to the J-Bar None.
The foreman said he only hired experienced hands,
Asked “Are you a cowboy, son?”

Said now, I can rope and brand a cow
And I can rope and doctor sheep.
I can earmark a cow or a hog
And I can work without any sleep.

I can build fence, dig post hole,
Fix a windmill pump,
Cut firewood, break new ground,
Dynamite a stump.

I can cook over a campfire, make good coffee,
Tell stories that will make people laugh.
Repair a saddle, put up hay,
Shoe a horse or pull a calf.

I can feed the chickens, gather eggs,
Mend a hole in a pair of socks,
Bake biscuits, milk a cow,
Churn up the butter in a crock.

I’ve rode rank horses, broke a few green ‘uns,
I can harness and work a mule,
Been kicked by horses, bit by a few,
It’s made me more careful, as a rule.

I’m lookin’ to hire on as a cowhand,
Got my own horse and gear.
Now, I may not be a cowboy,
But I can take one’s place ‘till he gets here.

Jerry A. White
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission


Buyin' New Boots

When payday comes, I’m gettin’ a new pair of boots.
I’m tired of  tearin’ my toenails loose on Juniper roots.
I’ve stepped on a thousand Prickly Pears, ar’ there, bouts.
Both boots have holes in the sides, and the soles are wore out.

I got a Cactus thorn in my left foot, and I’m tellin’ no lies
When I say it swole up to three times it’s size.
Why, it took six men, big and stout
to hold me down and cut it out.

When payday comes, I’m riding straight to town,
No lollygaggin’ or foolin’ around.
On my oath, I do solemnly swear
To go straight to the boot shop and buy a new pair.

With holes big enough to let my toes stick through
My feet get wet at the first sign of dew.
My toenails are black from kicking up rocks.
My feet are always wet an’ I can’t keep socks.

Boys, you’ve earned your pay and you can do with it as you choose,
But I shore ain’t a wasting mine on tobacco and booze.
When payday comes, boys, I do declare
I’m tired of these worn out boots, I’m gettin’a brand new pair.

The day I’m a’ waitin’ for finally arrives,
Money is jinglin’ in the pockets of my ol’ Levis.
I saddle my hoss and point him towards town.
Me and the boys are rollin’ smokes and jokin’ around.

We finally get to town after a long dry ride.
The boys stop at the saloon and invite me inside!
I had worked up a powerful thirst.
I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have just one drink first.

So I put my foot on the rail and bellyed up to the bar,
Ordered up whiskey and a nickel cigar.
Ed was playin’ poker and when he was through,
I sat in for a hand or two.

After a few more drinks, my vision was blurred.
When I tried to talk, my speech was slurred.
But it would’ve took a blind man not to see
that tin horn gambler was bottom dealin’ me.

I called him a cheat, and he got sore.
I hit him up side the head and he goes to the floor.
His boys jump on me and a big fight broke out.
My pards jump in to help me out.

Next morning, we all woke up in the calaboose.
My left eye swelled shut and two teeth are loose.
Me and my pards paid out when the judge comes around.
He ran the tin horn and his bunch out of town.

Well, it’s Sunday mornin’ and the boot shop is closed,
And I ain’t got a dime left in the pocket of my clothes.
We had us a good fight and we had a lot of fun.
We come out on top and put the tin horn on the run.

My ole’ boots are gonna have to do me a little longer, I’m afraid,
But I’m gonna buy me a new pair next month, just as soon as I get paid.

Jerry A. White
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission



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