Thursday, September 18, 2014

Like it or Not


Like It or Not

Me and the gals
Was a-drinkin’ our fill
At the old buckaroo bar
Up there on the hill

We was being pretty quiet
An doin’ real well
When the door came open
An things went to hell.

An old drunk cowboy
Stepped through the door
He staggered an stumbled
Then fell on the floor

He picked himself up
An kinda looked all around
He staggered to the bar
An he sat himself down

He was little thin
An bent and old
Hard twisted and gray
An his eyes they were cold

His wranglers were dirty
But his white shirt was clean
He has a look about him
You could almost call mean

Well, the crease in his hat
It was crooked and worn
An the toes of his boots
Was an old cow’s horn

He didn’t want to talk
That was plain to show
But the Ol’ buckaroo knew
What I wanted to know

So I brought him a beer
To bide me time
I was wanting stories
To write me a rhyme

When he finally got talking
On the beer he was allowed
Yeah, the old buckaroo
He was still mighty proud

He said, “I rumbled and rambled
An crashed through life
I never had the courage
To take me a wife.”

He said, “Life is hard
It’s tough at its best
Then they lay down
For that ever long rest.”

He talked about women
Puppies and babies
The if’s an’s and buts
An all the maybes

He told is plain
Simple and true
The dirty tough life
Of an old buckaroo

“Well, the days and nights
Are lonely you know
About ropin’ brandin; an’
No place to go

About drinkin’ and fightin’
And ride’em hard
 About fate he called luck
In the turn of a card

About dust, rain, and snow
An’ the long endless nights
About old blues and old Rony
And the tough old bull fights

About the she-devil wind
The lord had it blow
He even talked about things
That he didn’t know

About his old Ford pickup
So faithful and true
About the junk in the back
An’ the women he’d knew

About friends long gone
His buckaroo pals
An’ a couple more times
He mentions the gals

About the camp up Jarbridge
The one South of Bend
What it would be like
When he come to the end

About the changes he’d saw
Through his long life
An’ you could tell he regretted
Not takin’ a wife

About the good old days
An’ now long they’d been gone
They way things were now,
How could they go on?

Well, the story was easy
I’d heard it you bet
But the last thing he told me
couldn't forget

He told is so softly
With a tear in his eye
He said, “Kid,
Life’s A Bitch
An’ Then You Just Die!”

Kendra Tyler
May 15, 2004
Copyright©2004

No comments:

Post a Comment