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Old Texas Cowboy

Older Whiskey

Well-known member
Joined
Mar 12, 2025
Messages
333
City & State/Province
NE Oregon
The Old Fart

He was an old Texas cowboy, toughest that I had seen
His breath smelled like diesel, his hat like gasoline
I told him I was a girl cowboy, a hand full of verse
He spat a wad of chew, then began to curse

He called me a little poo, a silly little turd
I felt sudden pain, from such blasphemous word
I told him he was mean, headed straight hell
He just smiled, then calmly said, "oh well"

He was the one that taught me, the best way to curse
Perhaps the sole reason, I continued with my verse
He said you gotta be tough, to survive on a ranch
Cry babies and sissies, well they don't have a chance

You will never write good verse, or sing a great song
Until you have suffered hardship, with things all gone wrong
Until you have seen a lot of living, with unexpected death
Those were his words then he took, his final breath

Old uncle was the toughest cattleman, I ever knew
So out to the barn, I knew what I had to do
I prayed that the Good Lord, forgive him for it
Especially the time he called me, a poo and then spit

Then I cried until my old aunt, said honey dry those tears
We have a load for auction, it was a load of steers
Then to town to pick out, a coffin on a cart
Cemetery bound, to say, goodbye to old fart
 
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Old Ute Joe

My grandma said stay clear of old Joe, because he drank
I never saw him tip the bottle, but worse than a skunk he stank
His smell was that of over ripe, very rotten garlic clove
He was always looking, for a legendary treasure trove

I never knew if he found that treasure in those hills
I often thought the hills is where he hid his stills
After his death, I investigated at the mountain peak
I found the treasure, even though I didn't really seek

It was all out in open sight, very plain to see
The eagles soaring above, they spoke to me
The eagles taught me, treasure is above the ground
Not in a bank, or in a vault, downtown

The treasure is abundant, everywhere around us
In silver, gold, or paper, none of it we trust
We trust in our skills as good stewards of the land
As ranchers and farmers, few others will understand

Blood, sweat, and tears, nothing worthwhile in life is free
A city horse girl wanted to go, to the eagle peak you see
So on my old paint cattle pony I rode, rock footed with glee
She never made it, fancy saddled, on her Walker Tennessee
 
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