I'll never be a cowboy poet,
A balladeering buckaroo.
A horse? Isn't that a species
That I saw once in a zoo?
I could never be a rider
With a cattle branding crew
Of a sage that's purple, yellow,
Green or any other hue.
Stetsons, chaps and neckerchiefs
Would, on me, fall short of chic.
And chewing jerky for my lunch?
I think my jaws may be too weak.
But cowboys are my heroes,
Though I'd never make the grade.
And poets are the finest beings
Mother Nature ever made.
When you put the two together,
You produce a creature higher
On the slopes of Mount Parnassus
Than any city versifier.
Yes, add the poet to the cowboy
And sure as campfires flicker,
You'll generate some envy
In this rhyming city slicker.