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Cowboy poem by Skinny Rowland

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Well-known member
Feb 11, 2005
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northern Nebraska Sandhills
This came to me from Todd Trask in an e-mail. I did have the opportunity to meet Skinny Rowland at Old West Days in Valentine, and had a good visit with him at the time. He was a fine old gentleman

From Bad to Worse
A poem by Skinny Rowland.
He was a cowboy poet, born in 1926
in Pleasant Valley Oregon, and died in 1997
in Tucson, Arizona.


Now my wife just left and the well went dry,
and my horse is sick and about to die.

Then my still blew up and the barn burned down,
and the road washed out on the way to town.

Then my dog got rabies and bit the cat,
and they both died soon after that.

Now I lost my specs and my pipe-stem broke,
so I can't even sit and read and smoke.

Then a tree fell on the chicken shed,
and most of the hens got smashed plumb dead.

Then a chimney fire took half of a wall,
and this old shack is about to fall.

Then I caught my heel on an old dead vine,
and sat smack dab on a porcupine.

Then a beaver dam broke and my bridge washed out,
and my watch stopped working and I've got the gout.

And the bank foreclosed so I've lost my place,
and my cow disappeared without a trace.

They cut off my credit at the grocery store,
and I lost my job and a whole lot more.

I must have been hexed by a triple curse,
as things keep going from bad to worse.

And now fate has hit me a last dirty crack,
to top off the worst - my wife's coming back.

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