When robbers hold their guns out
And bellow, “Stick ‘em up”
The whole ordeal is really rather crass.
But it gets even worse
When they try to rob the livestock
‘Cause then the robbers “Stick ‘em up” your ass.
Tag Archives: Western
In Case You’d Forgotten
Back in the Western USA
In 1800 somethin’
A couple cowboys realized
Their hearts, they were a thumpin’.
The cowboys had been life long friends
And though they both were male
They rode to Brokeback Mountain
And they gave up on the trail.
Yodel-oodle-yodel-adle-yodel-addle-ee!
Yodel-oodle-yodel-adle-odel-sodomy!
We used to have some cowboys
To protect our town from raids,
But now we have to check
Our cowboy guardians for AIDS!
They use to be quick to the draw
But now they have more fun
With the sheathing than the drawing
Of their aforementioned gun!
Yodel-oodle-yodel-adle-yodel-addle-ee!
Yodel-oodle-yodel-adle-odel-sodomy!
One cowboy found his saddle’s
Grown less comfortable with time. He
Found this was the case
Unless their romance they would stymie.
But the cowboys needed horses
Like they found they needed lasses
And they replaced their ponies
With one another’s (whoaaa!)
Yodel-oodle-yodel-adle-yodel-addle-ee!
Yodel-oodle-yodel-adle-odel-sodomy!
Yodel
Oodle
Yodel
Adel
Odel
Soooooooo…
Doooooooo…
Myyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!
High Noooooo Thank You!
He strode into town,
A wayfaring stranger,
His haunting black eyes
An invitation to danger.
The gun on his belt
Had been recently shot.
“Seems like a bit
“Too much trouble,” I thought.
So as he turned left
And hitched up his horse
I turned to the right
And continued that course
‘Til I got to the city
And started to grin
Knowing that was a Western
I wouldn’t be in.
Filed under Poems
I’m Off To The Wild West… California!
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.
Filed under Poems
The Last Amiable Sheriff
Hi there partner!
I’m Sheriff Steve.
I like riding on my pony
To deter those who thieve.
I only carry a gun
For shooting bottles at the quarry,
But if that makes you nervous
Then I assure you, do not worry.
Because Sheriff Steve has other ways
Of detaining unlawful sorts:
A friendly smile, a stern “now, now,”
And some more witty retorts.
There’s little crime in this town of mine
So I’m doing a good job.
These were the last words of Sheriff Steve
As he greeted Outlaw Bob.
Filed under Poems
A Great Post from Someone Else
I found this poem in my travels,
And it brought to me a smile.
Go check it out, it’s worthy of clout,
And it’s certainly worth your while.
http://themindselbow.blogspot.com/2014/01/git-along-little-rhymers.html
Filed under To the Reader
Love on the Range
I once met a cowboy
Who went ba the name o’ Jed.
Had a cactus for a pilla,
And the prairie was ‘is bed.
He done met a lass he fancied,
Who went ba the name o’ Mary,
But he lost interest when
He couldn’t get her into prairie.
I wanted a home
where the buffalo roam,
And to wake at the rise of the sun.
Well I got like I wanted,
But my thoughts still are haunted
By my daddy waving ” Good Bison.”
There once was a matchmaker
Who lived in Dixie land.
Whenever folks got married,
In it, she had a hand.
Well you should hear what she said
When her own love did end:
“Good sir, you want to ride this horse,
But this horse just wants to be friends.”
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 