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Welcome To The Bullpen


As most of you know, the cowboy was prone to spending a lot of time alone with just his horse for company.  Many of us spend so much time alone as a matter of fact that we start talking to our equine partners and before long, we’re holding conversations with them, whether real, or imagined.

 
This poem is about a down and out cowboy and his horse, which he imagines is responsible for making the coffee when their in camp, and the coffee doesn’t quite meet the cowboy’s expectations.
 

The Ballad of Cowgirl on Coffee
Mike Massey

One late October evening, Ol’ Devil Spawn and me,
Were ridin’ on the hoot owl trail, all steeped in misery.
We were sittin’ around our campfire, sippin’ horseshoe branded brew,
He called it his original  from a heel-bar he’d once threw.
I Allowed as how I’d noticed, his concoction  lacked some kick,
Then he blew a snort and offered, “Cayenne will do the trick.”
I said I wasn’t  too dang sure that’d be the way to go,
“Cause ya’ know how I’m particular  ‘bout the way I like my Jo.”
 
Then he flashed me that dern crazy-eye, you know the one I mean,
The one that says, “You’ve ticked me off, and I’m about to make a scene.”
The one the size of a dinner plate, all white an’ turn’n red,
The one that says, “Just one more word, and I’m leavin’ you fer dead!”
 
 I said “Now  just hold on there”, as I was huntin’ up a tree,
“I’m thinkin’ yer ol’ house blend, might just be fine with me.”
Then suddenly from nowhere, an angel voice proclaimed,
“Halloo, the camp! We’re comin’ in”, and ridin’ up they came.
 
I swear what stood before us, was a dern sweet sight to see,
Two purdy dolled up cowgirls, lookin’ mighty fine to me.
They each wore buscaderos, carried low down on their hips,
And packin’ fancy shootin’ irons, sportin smiles upon their lips.
They made clear their intentions, said “Don’t you make a move.”
“Now ease back from that brewin’ pot, real slow, and silky smooth.”
One said, “My name is Sonya, my pard goes by Josie,
We’re the caffeine ladden wildcats, known as Cowgirls on Coffee.”
“We‘ve come to save yer worthless hides, from that rancid boilin’ brew,
That’s how we trailed ya up here, from the stink that poison’s threw.”
“It’s run off all the critters, from our happy huntin’ grounds,
Shriveled all the foliage, and browned the grass for miles around.”
 
Now the next thing that them cowgirls done, and I swear that this is true,
Cleared leather fast as lightin’ , and shot our brew pot thru-n-thru.
“Just let this be a warning, if you plan to ride our trail.”
“Take our advice, be real nice, or we’ll send you both to hell.”
Then they handed down a fair size bag, packed with beans an’ brand new pot,
Said, “The coffee’s our own ‘Cowboy Roast’ , and a replacement for what we shot.
Then they roll-backed them old ponies, such a sight it was to see,
And hollered back “ That’s compliments from us “Cowgirls on Coffee”
 
 About that time ol’ Devil Spawn, just lowered his big head,
Then shook his mane and made a sigh, on account of what she’d said.
And if by chance yer wonderin just what’s become of me,
Well, I spend my nights a’dreamin’ , about the gals of  ConC.





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