Jump out of bed
run a comb over my head,
pull down my Stetson
just like a real West-Texan,
slide into a pair of Wrangler jeans
eat some cold pork-n-beans,
throw on my boots and spurs
water the stock and feed the curs,
kiss my gal for a little luck
hop in the old pickup truck,
fly out of town and
put the hammer down,
a Terry Allen tape in the deck
and my mind's all set,
past the end of the blacktop
out to where the hardroad stops,
there at the rodeo grounds
is where I'm bound,
gonna draw a good ride
on some ornery old cowhide,
I'll be burning up ropes and saddles
cutting and roping those wild-n-wolly cattle,
dust has surely replaced the blood in my veins
'cause when cut I only leave dirt stains;
yea,
I'm a bronc ridin' - mustang bustin'
calf brandin' - cow ropin'
son-of-the-West!
a pure old-fashioned cowboy
at his best -
and that's why
I'll always love to go
down to the rodeo!
A great poem, there sure is some brave men in the rodeo game.
I love it Smoky. Here in the Valley we have what essentially would be a state fair in othet places. It is called a livestock show. But it has riding and roping and showing if all kinds of critters. Thete wad a time when they had a special guest every year, like Festus, Miss Kitty, Doc, Chester, once they had Gil Favor and Cheyenne. Those times are gone but still a lot of fun.
We Brits were brought up watching Westerns at the cinema - sounds like a whole lot of fun!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is such a fun read Smoky. You've brought it all to life and nailed the culture with real truths.