Big Hands Don
BIG HANDS DON
I s’pose I’ve been a cowboy since I was just a ‘teen
But I was herd’n bad guys, see I cowboy’d for the queen
I rode with lots of partners up and down the asphalt trail
Those that cut the corners and those that wouldn’t fail
Some were rough and ready and a few just down right tricky
One sticks in my memories, he’s Big Hands Don Molicki
Now Big Hands wore a smile that surely was no bluff
It didn’t seem to phase him when customers got rough
His presence was imposing, a draft horse in the stable
When muscle was required Big Hands was more than able
He was who ya wanted to back ya in the bar
Or wrestling ornery critters into a police car
But after all the action of solving crime and caper
We’d head back to the office and put it down on paper
Well this is where the smile just melted off his face
His hands were hardly suited for a secretary’s place
Fat fingers on the keyboard, the letters surely flew
But when he’d aim for W he’d hit E S and Q
One late night as he toiled to fix his shift report
The waste pail full beside him with pages he’d abort
His mighty fist then crashed down hard upon the keys
And he cursed so that we knew this wern’t no time to tease
The rest of us were busy putt’n guns and cuffs away
When one went over to him and entered in the frey
He thought his gun unloaded when he aimed at that machine
And said “I’ll solve your troubles” then pulled the trigger clean
We stood there in a dither when we heard that pistol bark
While the bullet pierced the heart of the exclamation mark
When eardrums quit their ringing and smoke commenced to clear
Our minds turned to excuses for the questions sure to hear
When mounties fire their side arms, reports they have to make
We figured this was one we’d probably have to fake
But every new rendition of the lie that we would give
Seemed just about a shaky and water in a sieve
It finally was decided in the middle of the night
We’d call the Sarge and fess-up, not a pretty sight
With courage fully mustered, the Sergeant home in bed
Was told the gruesome details, he asked “ya think it’s dead!!”
The month or so that followed slipped by without no gripin’
Big Hands did all our bull work, we did all his typin’
Copyright © Bryan Smith | Year Posted 2007
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment