Childhood Heroes

I tried to hide it from my mom, I did not want her mad at Dad; But I’d sneak his Wild West Weekly On every single chance I had. They were Daddy’s small indulgence These stories of the old wild west. Bought it when Mom wasn’t looking And put it in his sheepskin vest. There were heroes, there were villains. The heroes won out in the end. They were good and honest cowpokes Each was loyal to his friend. Mama scolded, called them novels; As if she thought all novels bad. Don’t know what she had against them, But if she caught me she’d be mad. I would take one of them with me When I was sent to herd the cows. Another good old spot for reading Was in one of the big haymows. Every issue had a story About young Billy West and his pard, Buck Foster, who stuck with him Sort of acting like his guard. Danger seemed to follow Billy And old Buck must help him out. For the land was full of outlaws Who didn’t want these two about. Mama sometimes got suspicious, When I was gone too long a while, But my daddy would defend me. And then he’d wink at me and smile. Now my daddy rides in Heaven It’s been fifty years this year. And my mama’s gone to join him, No wicked novels hidden there.