Cowboy Ron Williams

Cowboy Ron Williams Biography

My name is Ronald G. Williams. I used to be a real cowboy and a rodeo circuit rider. I have finished in the top ten three times in the national finals.

I also worked for a little over a year as a lumberjack in Alaska. I was laid off there and didn't have much money, so I stayed in a buddy's cabin while he went back to the lower 48 to visit family, and lived off the land as a mountain man for a little while.

I finally got a regular job as a fireman in a large city in Arizona and worked there for more than 22 years until I was forced to retire because of my age. About a month after that, my barber passed away. I had become very good friends with him, and was very surprised when I was informed by his attorney that he had left me his barber shop and all the equipment in his will! He had no close family members.

I had no formal training as a barber, so I couldn't charge for my services, but I started giving free haircuts to the homeless men in town. It was something to do to keep me busy. As my skills improved, so did my reputation, and soon so-called homeless men in suits and ties started appearing for free haircuts!

The good news is that they gave me generous tips equivalent to more than the cost of a haircut from other barbers in town. Soon I was making more money than I ever had in my life, and all tax free because legally I was just giving free haircuts!

Finally I got carpal tunnel in both wrists so severe that I had to give it up. At age 80 I sold the shop, discovered Poem Hunter, and the rest is history.

So now I call myself Cowboy Ron Williams. I was a cowboy longer than anything else.

I was married for 40 years to the most wonderful woman in the world, but she has been gone for more than two years now and I am lonely. I would consider getting married again if the right woman came along, but there are few who want to marry an octogenarian. Would it help if I told them that I have more money than I can figure out how to spend?

Oh, the life of a cowboy is hard;
I don't have just a tiny back yard.
My grass does love to grow,
so when it's time to mow,
I enlist the good help of my pard.

By the way, the B.S. that I have listed for Education does not stand for Bachelor of Science. Instead, it refers to something sloppy and completely bovine.

The Best Poem Of Cowboy Ron Williams

Old Cowboy Ron

Old Cowboy Ron, well, that is me.
I never went to school.
I grew up working on a ranch,
and yet I ain't no fool.

I had to teach myself to read,
and writing was quite hard,
and though I've practiced quite a bit
I'll never be no bard.

I never tried to write a poem
‘til I had eighty turned.
I don't know naught ‘bout metaphors;
that's stuff I never learned.

Don't talk to me ‘bout similes
or that iambic stuff,
I don't know jack about that crap;
confusing, sure enough.

My words ain't polished, that's for sure.;
my grammar might be rough.
I just write what sounds good to me;
if you don't like it - - tough!

Cowboy Ron Williams Comments

Cowboy Ron Williams Quotes

It's just Smoky Hoss and me. We seem to be the only cowboys left. Saddle up and meet me at the north pasture, Smoky. This website has mostly died. Let's ride off and find us a better one.

Looked up the word 'geezer' in the dictionary. They had my picture in there!

It takes a lot of balls to enjoy a feast of Rocky Mountain oysters.

Bad breath is better than no breath at all.

My hair is starting to get thin, but who wants fat hair, anyway?

An apple a day keeps the doctor away, but an onion a day keeps EVERYBODY away!

I may not always walk a straight and narrow line, but I try to cross it as often as possible!

The older and skinnier I get, the more I appreciate global warming!

Just so that everyone is clear, I'm going to put on my glasses.

Everybody is ignorant, only on different subjects. (Will Rogers)

A journey of a thousand miles begins with running back into the house for something you forgot.

I just heard about something called intermittent fasting. Isn't that the period of time between lunch and dinner?

i before e except after c, and also when you heinously seize your feisty foreign neighbor's conceited beige weird heifer from the ceiling.

Without a reader the poem is dead, stillborn and lifeless —buried unread (Kurt Philip Behm)

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