Cowboy Hank's Scruffy Boots

Hank lounged on the bunkhouse porch tossin' back some beers, Watchin' the sunset and reminiscin' about his cowboyin' years. He peered at the sun 'twixt the pointy toes of his shabby boots Propped on the railin', that he'd wore durin' his cowpokin' pursuits! He'd bought 'em fer about twelve bucks twenty-five years er so ago, At The Cowpokes Friendly Tack and Feed Store in nearby El Paso. Silver-plated spurs was attached to the heels as an added attraction, To prod the flanks of Old Dan, his hoss, into spurts of action! He'd wore 'em on round-ups and in the corral at brandin' time, As he wrestled them wily dogies to the ground in the dust and grime! He'd scrape the manure off'n his boots each Saturday afternoon, And later do a little high steppin' with the gals at Bart's Saloon! He even wore 'em on his weddin' day much to his bride's chagrin; She wanted to burn the consarned things but Hank would not give in! He told his pards: "Bury me on yonder knoll 'neath that ponderosa pine. If'n you kin scare up a preacher to send me on my way, that'd be jes' fine. Boys, make sure I'm sportin' them old boots when in my coffin I'm laid, 'Cause I wanna be wearin' them dear old friends in that eternal promenade!" Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired