Allan Terry Poet Cowboy Poetry

Do They the Cowboy Ballet

they seek words
to describe their thoughts
they mock the English
they Curse him in French
they mumble his name in Russian
and laugh at him in German
yet they speak in his tongue and speak him
as God

Cattle shall be herded into stalls to be milked
their milk shall be curdled into cheese
men shall want these soft dairied things
so they can have their wives and mothers
feed them
she wishes me clean, but refuses to wash my coat
she speaks me as ill and won't wash my coat
she tell the neighbors to smell the horses Oder
and the stenge of the cattle,
she told when it rains rub soap into the coat
and toss it over the saddle
let the horse walk in the rain
to clean the stench in the pouring rain
I look at her, and often walks away
what good thing could I find to say
I just grab my guitar
and am on my merry-way!

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