When I was a little bitty boy
So young it was okay to be strange
I wanted to be a cowboy
And ride the wide-open range.
My best friends would be a stallion,
My rifle, and my hat.
Needless to say as I grew up
My life diverged from that.
I play cards at the old saloon
When my work’s done for the week.
I drive a sleek black mustang
And I’m sometimes known to wreak.
I may sit behind a desk
Playing quick-draw with my phone
But I really just want to saddle up,
Ride off, and be alone.
A few things stand between me
And the life I’m meant to lead.
In the Chicago city limits
I can’t buy a proper steed.
I look quite like a bad boy
So the ladies are all smiles and purrs
But they never die at the end of the episode
And they object when I wear my spurs.
In my heart I am a cowboy.
I dress and talk like one
And, thanks to the permit office,
I can own my own six-gun.
It has to be locked up
Separately from the ammunition.
But tomorrow I’m moving West
To fulfill my grand ambition.
The Daily Travesty 