Mike Airs Poem by John Yaws

Glen starts the ball a'rollin-
'Bout cowboys don't wear crocs.
I guess that true, none of them do-
An' most don't wear no socks.

But since he set pace, I guess...
I'll let him be my teacher.
I'll tell a tale that I once heard,
About them Baptist preachers.

'Twas show and tell down at the school,
Jim brought his Uncle Gus.
A cowhand from the Pecos-
And a quite unruly cuss.

The school marm said, 'If you will, sir-
Explain the garb you wear.'
And Gus replied, with lots of pride-
'It goes with my leather chair.'

From where I sat, he doffed his hat-
Said, 'This here's my sombrero-
Protects me from the rain and sun,
And makes a decent pillow.

This leather vest protects my chest,
When icy northers blow-
And leave my wings, free to swing-
The noose I have to throw.

These batwing chaps across my lap-
Are worth their weight in gold,
They turn the thorns, and sometimes horns,
And shield me from the cold.'

The schoolmarm said, 'And on your feet-
Pray tell of your footwear.'
He smiled and said, I shook my head-
'Why, ma'am, them's Nike airs.'

'If I wore boots, ' he shook his head-
While eyeing that there teacher-
I'd be afraid I'd be mistook-
For some blamed Baptist preacher.'