Older Whiskey
Well-known member
To fully appreciate this poem in the cowboy style
please read my poem Flat Brimmed Hat first
Bull Durham Barn
April 29 2025
I did a lot of foolish things I said, she said she didn't know
And it didn't matter no how, since it was many years ago
As I swallowed a shot from her drink, tasting coffee down
I continued blabbing as we loaded, heading Pendleton town
I never chewed tobacco, smoked once, and never committed crime
But I did wear too short of shorts, scandalous, since past my natural prime
I never chewed, cheeked, or spat old bull, so let me be direct and clear
I was once too long in the rodeo garden, with mugs of frosty beer
You ever remember a ranch girl burning her bra, I mused and asked
She said she didn't recollect, such nonsense was history, it didn't last
You ever go to rodeo braless I asked, and then I could see
That was a foolish question, she was a triple D
Great for you she says, with your chest so small and flat
Since such was very hurtful, I changed the subject at that
Why is it that men never listen or pay attention, she inquired
Beats the poo out of me, leaves me speechless, I backfired
I know men don't listen to me, because I talk a lot
Pausing from my babble briefly, taking another coffee shot
On the other hand, you hardly talk and won't say poo bull
Even if flying manure hits the fan, and fills your mouth full
Why men are so deaf, don't listen, can't hear the female word
No answer ever comes to me, no answer has been heard
With business finished in the town, well known for Let er Buck
We sashayed our denim clad behinds back, to the pickup truck
After lunch and chatter, stool seated, at the old cowboy grill
The day was young so killing time was fun, time that we had still
To take the back road off the freeway, beckoned slow and cool
Back to where I posed at the old barn ad, for the Durham Bool
That was years ago, years like chickens have flown the proverbial coop
Many memories from the day we drove, cruised the old back roads loop
Donned in shorts, short from jeans legs ripped, beyond any skillful mend
I grabbed my hat, not to diva pose, but to hold, securing from the wind
With my 100X beaver stolen at the Joseph Rodeo, as I previously whined and said
This one, though Beaver of a Lesser Felt, was secure, hand placed upon my head
please read my poem Flat Brimmed Hat first
Bull Durham Barn
April 29 2025
I did a lot of foolish things I said, she said she didn't know
And it didn't matter no how, since it was many years ago
As I swallowed a shot from her drink, tasting coffee down
I continued blabbing as we loaded, heading Pendleton town
I never chewed tobacco, smoked once, and never committed crime
But I did wear too short of shorts, scandalous, since past my natural prime
I never chewed, cheeked, or spat old bull, so let me be direct and clear
I was once too long in the rodeo garden, with mugs of frosty beer
You ever remember a ranch girl burning her bra, I mused and asked
She said she didn't recollect, such nonsense was history, it didn't last
You ever go to rodeo braless I asked, and then I could see
That was a foolish question, she was a triple D
Great for you she says, with your chest so small and flat
Since such was very hurtful, I changed the subject at that
Why is it that men never listen or pay attention, she inquired
Beats the poo out of me, leaves me speechless, I backfired
I know men don't listen to me, because I talk a lot
Pausing from my babble briefly, taking another coffee shot
On the other hand, you hardly talk and won't say poo bull
Even if flying manure hits the fan, and fills your mouth full
Why men are so deaf, don't listen, can't hear the female word
No answer ever comes to me, no answer has been heard
With business finished in the town, well known for Let er Buck
We sashayed our denim clad behinds back, to the pickup truck
After lunch and chatter, stool seated, at the old cowboy grill
The day was young so killing time was fun, time that we had still
To take the back road off the freeway, beckoned slow and cool
Back to where I posed at the old barn ad, for the Durham Bool
That was years ago, years like chickens have flown the proverbial coop
Many memories from the day we drove, cruised the old back roads loop
Donned in shorts, short from jeans legs ripped, beyond any skillful mend
I grabbed my hat, not to diva pose, but to hold, securing from the wind
With my 100X beaver stolen at the Joseph Rodeo, as I previously whined and said
This one, though Beaver of a Lesser Felt, was secure, hand placed upon my head
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