Dang it, someone spilt their coffee on the deck of cards again.
Probably one of the new guys. This place looks like a den of hibernating coyotes. Shoot, they’ve broke another chair!
And I’d been countin’ on a little game of solitaire.
Kids. I’ve seen a million walkin’ through this bunkhouse door.
They blow through here like tumbleweeds, I’ve give up keepin’ score.
Tonight they’re down at
Mona’s pro’bly spendin’ their last dime
‘Cause we pull out on
Monday. But way back there was a time
I’d been right in amongst ‘em but I quit goin’ to town.
I got a box for pop cans but they’re scattered all around,
It doesn’t seem too much to ask to keep the trash picked up.
Matilda whelped another batch. Romero took a pup
To train it. That’s okay, but the corner by his bed
Is littered with old papers. So he could learn to read, he said.
I might just go to
Mona’s. Show them kids a thing or two.
They think I’m old and grouchy but if they only knew
I’m just tired of playin’ wet nurse to a string of buckaroos
They won’t get the satisfaction of seein’ me impressed by their endless balface windys or stirrin’ up the nest.
They can learn by my example. Maybe even save a buck.
And I would go in to Mona’s but I lent the lads my truck! BAXTER BLACK, DVM, has been rhyming his way into the national spotlight and now stands as the best selling cowboy poet in the world. He has achieved notoriety as a syndicated columnist and radio commentator.