Ode To a Blueberry Roan

I was heading to the bunkhouse, after a wild night on the town dancing & romancing & one too many round Back in my wild & woolly days, one more rowdy Saturday night full of cheap beer & whiskey & the necessary fight I set Ol' Gus on auto pilot, he knew the way back to the spread And I set to fighting with those rotgut demons dancing in my head We were getting pretty close to home, so I eased up on the bit when all of a sudden that dang horse he up & quit His ears were all pricked forward, listening quite intense I caught a drift of what might pass for music, somewhere beyond the fence It took a lot of persuading, cussing & cajoling but I got ol' Gus headed for all the caterwauling the sound got more peculiar as we crested the hill the memory of what I saw that moonlit night stays with me still for I had stumbled on a peculiar party, hosted by a peg leg dog and there was a one eyed pole cat doing comedic monologue A Blueberry Roan soon took the stage, singing Motley Crue I swear I saw a big ol' ornery hog with a "born to squeal" tattoo There were bulls & Heifers dancing, I couldn't believe my eyes why those bovine wore spikes and body piercings, in places utterly unwise There where horses with mohawk hairdos head banging to the song I swear to you, Ol' Gus, he began to sway & sing along Now I know what you're thinking & I most heartily agree it was the moon & wind playing tricks, along with rotgut whiskey You city folks can keep your pink elephants parading in tutus for this cowboy was shown the light by a Roan in blue suede shoes I gave up hell raising & carousing, said so long to the honky-tonk life Happy now to stick to ranching & dancing under the moon with my wife But every now & again, when the wind blows & the moon is shining bright I swear I can hear the livestock laughing & head banging through the night