Speak Your Mind, But Ride A Fast Horse
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Poetic Form: Cowboy Poetry/Inner Rhyming
Inspired: 2024 February 18
KEY:
Critter: Horse
Nicker: Horse whiny noise
Headlong: Fall off a horse
Keep things dry: Secret/Quiet
Burn the breeze: Ride fast
Two hoops and holler: not far, AND ... long holler: farther
Singin' to 'em: Standing night guard
Worth to Dallas spin: Ft. Worth to Dallas, TX
Unshucked: Gun drawn
Up a tree: Difficult situation
Hair in the butter: Delicate situation
French leave: Run away
Hang fire: Delay
Fish or cut the bait: Do something or quit talking about it
Arkansas toothpick: A large knife
Never drink downstream: From the herd
Among the willows: Dodging the lawmen
All Hands & the Cook: Danger, every man is needed
California collar: Hangman's noose
Belly Wash: Weak coffee
Left Handed Wife: Mistress
Lookin' for a dog to kick: Expression of disgust
Image: N/A
That be cold sun rose yonder, our heads be hot, I'd declare,
I'll get Whitey my critter, worked all night, best she nicker.
'Bout saddlin' her real tight, or I'll headlong out of sight,
I want movin' nice and fast, cause just--nice--ends up a mess.
Must keep thin's dry 'round Whitey ... traps, she'll stir if caught any,
though we burn the breeze git near, passed two hoops long's a holler,
the homestead bout five miles back should see the first trap I set.
Nope, trap's clean and good to go, next, ain't whistle earshot. Whoa!
Need to slow time -- like disarm, well, no sense singin' to 'em,
come on girl, traps a waitin', ain't no worth to Dallas spin!
Good girl, now just o'er that rise--Whoa! Rattler!--Where, is mascque-eyes?
I'm unshucked and up a tree! Hair in the butter, for me.
French leave, or hang fire--no wait--either fish or cut the bait?
Oh there! 'Neath the brush ahead. Steady girl--a rattler's head!
(BANG/Whinning neighs)
Where's my Arkansas toothpick? Then be trapped, you won't get nicked.
(Talking to the rattler)
Well, done checking all the traps, I knew it'd fill up two packs.
(Resting a bit before anything else)
Be back--stay drink, water's clean--up, I'd never drink downstream.
"Howdy," well, whaddya know? That is one among the willows.
(Passing rider nods and head on...)
All hands and the cook--don't need ... California collar--tree.
(Wanted rider drifts out of sight)
I'll start a fire real quick, then the rattler on the spit.
That was quick and good eatin', look like that sun 'bout settin',
Methinks the night out in town, whaddya think, how does that sound?
Toss belly wash on the fire, where's my comb and the mirror,
cowboys don't bathe, they dust off, come on it's late, let's head off.
You be good, hear, and wait right here, this stallion needs his mare.
That there'd square dance a bit more, must be rattlers on that floor,
My left-handed wife, sidekick. Lookin' for a dog to kick!
There's no call for that ... You mean ... two packs, tied up on Whitey.
Fire 'em up, boys, R O S I E ' S . R O A S T E D . R A T T L E R ' S time!
Copyright © Hilo Poet | Year Posted 2024
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