Older Whiskey
Well-known member
Flat Brimmed Hat is a must read
before reading Bull Durham Barn
Flat Brimmed Hat
May 9 2022
After the long winter and snow started to melt
I stopped by the old hatters to price, a 100X beaver felt
Shaping it would be with a gentle pencil roll on the brim
Down in front, up in back, he cleared his throat, ahem ahem
"Wouldn't this crease or that be more for a young person your age
Don't you want to be fashionable like the movie star, Hollywood rage?"
"No," I said, "I don't, you see each shape of this hat comes from ancestors of old"
"Will you tell me those stories," he asks, "If my asking is not too bold."
I shared my ancestors' stories from Colorado, Arizona, and Texas
Stories of ranching and rodeo, with hardships that affected both sexes
His mannerisms told me it was time to leave, he had heard enough
To make me a hat that was versatile, all-weather, comfortable and tuff
I wore that hat in all seasons and weather for ten years more or less
Before it was stolen right off my head during a crowded rodeo mess
Why did it survive through all the hardships, what's the reason
Just to be stolen off my head, during a fun rodeo season
It was on my head, during one bad fire season so frightening
With ambers falling all around, a fire started by fast lightening
So you see those brim burns, from embers all a glow
They fell like it was winter and I was caught in the snow
Wasn't a fashion statement put there for a diva to wear
My hat protected me from burnt, singed, and damaged hair
Those blood stains came from a deep ugly leg gash
It served as a band aid, held on firm with rope lash
The dirt, the manure, even the result of eggs broken
Gave it character, made its story, a real one not a token
You see, that custom hat from 100X beaver
Even served in the pickup, when I puked from a fever
My hat was stolen off my head, but my mind retains the stories
The thief will never know that hat, with all its boastful glories
A hat is just a hat, a cover, without all the glorious tale
Like times it saved my noggin, from unexpected hail
Contemplating getting a new flat brimmed 100X beaver hat
Makes me wonder what stories it will have, with brim so flat
Maybe it will make me a better person, the Bible says, well
Not even all the great attributes of 100X, will hold up in hell
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 up 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, rodeo stolen years before, the memory still not dead
This one, though Beaver of a Lesser Felt, secured, hand placed upon my head
before reading Bull Durham Barn
Flat Brimmed Hat
May 9 2022
After the long winter and snow started to melt
I stopped by the old hatters to price, a 100X beaver felt
Shaping it would be with a gentle pencil roll on the brim
Down in front, up in back, he cleared his throat, ahem ahem
"Wouldn't this crease or that be more for a young person your age
Don't you want to be fashionable like the movie star, Hollywood rage?"
"No," I said, "I don't, you see each shape of this hat comes from ancestors of old"
"Will you tell me those stories," he asks, "If my asking is not too bold."
I shared my ancestors' stories from Colorado, Arizona, and Texas
Stories of ranching and rodeo, with hardships that affected both sexes
His mannerisms told me it was time to leave, he had heard enough
To make me a hat that was versatile, all-weather, comfortable and tuff
I wore that hat in all seasons and weather for ten years more or less
Before it was stolen right off my head during a crowded rodeo mess
Why did it survive through all the hardships, what's the reason
Just to be stolen off my head, during a fun rodeo season
It was on my head, during one bad fire season so frightening
With ambers falling all around, a fire started by fast lightening
So you see those brim burns, from embers all a glow
They fell like it was winter and I was caught in the snow
Wasn't a fashion statement put there for a diva to wear
My hat protected me from burnt, singed, and damaged hair
Those blood stains came from a deep ugly leg gash
It served as a band aid, held on firm with rope lash
The dirt, the manure, even the result of eggs broken
Gave it character, made its story, a real one not a token
You see, that custom hat from 100X beaver
Even served in the pickup, when I puked from a fever
My hat was stolen off my head, but my mind retains the stories
The thief will never know that hat, with all its boastful glories
A hat is just a hat, a cover, without all the glorious tale
Like times it saved my noggin, from unexpected hail
Contemplating getting a new flat brimmed 100X beaver hat
Makes me wonder what stories it will have, with brim so flat
Maybe it will make me a better person, the Bible says, well
Not even all the great attributes of 100X, will hold up in hell
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 up 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, rodeo stolen years before, the memory still not dead
This one, though Beaver of a Lesser Felt, secured, hand placed upon my head
Last edited: