Cowboy Attitude
I wasn't raised on a ranch or a farm
A fact that may give some a pause or alarm
But I know my way 'round a stable or barn
I've lived a strange life as they say
The place I was born was in Baltimore City
A strange sort'a town that can be rough and gritty
In fact in some places it's just downright shitty
No wonder I didn't stay there
When I was a kid I could never relate
To my family and neighbors who thought it so great
I had to get out, before it's too late
I'd hate to become one of 'them'
I joined the Navy when I turned seventeen
To go out in the world 'n see what all's to be seen
I cut the cord early, if ya know what I mean
'Cause I never belonged with that bunch
In central Flor'da, I was introduced
To cowboy'n one day, while out gettin' juiced
Easy money I thought, to give me a boost
We didn't get paid much back then
Just ride the horse 'n follow the dogs
Look out for the snakes 'n maybe wild hogs
Try not to drown or get stuck in the bogs
'n get them cows outta the bush
Ropin' 'n such., I didn't know how
But they gimme a quirt that they called a romal
It'll make a loud noise when you smack a cow
That's what bein' a 'Cracker's about
A dollar and hour and found was my pay
To round up these steers to wherever they'd say
A drover would come 'n take 'em away
'Load 'em up inna truck off the road
They were good ol' boys, mostly Seminole
We'd meet at the time 'n the place I'd been tol'
They'd unload the trailers 'n we'd mount up 'n go
Spendin' all day in the scrub
When the sun started fadin' they'd call us all in
Lead the horses to trailers 'n the dogs to their pen
In back of the pick-ups they all arrived in
Then settle up with my pay
A sandwich 'n coffee with a candy bar snack
Was near like a feast when I'd fin'ly get back
Along with a beer 'n a stiff shot of Jack
Life's simple when you're just eighteen
As to who actually owned 'em, I never did ask
They'd always pay cash for my time at the task
Some carried guns, but no black hats or a mask
They was rustlers for all that I know
In pre-Disney Flor'da along the St John
Where the tourists don't go, you could have you some fun
In some dive with a tin roof to shade from the sun
'n listen to Blues deftly played
Good ol' boys, from back in the swamp
'n wild teenaged sailors, just out for a romp
Juke box blarin' Hank Williams, or the Ubangi Stomp
'n there weren't no shortage of girls
Then all that ended in '63
We hadda deploy 'n go out to sea
'Thought that flight deck at night 'be the death of me
But it wasn't
I'd sailed 'round the world when I was 21
As a Third Class Aviation Ordnanceman
While the guys back home ideas for fun
Was still the drive-in on Saturday night
At 22, I'd been to war
'Came home on leave to Baltimore
Oh I didn't belong there anymore
I might as well have come from the Moon
I said g'bye 'n didn't look back
Drove out west to my post in an Ordnance Shack
TAD down to Yuma for fighter attack
Where the desert just blew me away
By this time I was 23
A cowboy's what I wanted to be
Even rode rodeo for people to see
But I'd never go do that again (Ow!)
This cowboy idea hadda be put on hold
Went back to Vietnam at 27 years old
'Lotta stuff in between is left to be told
But I reckon that'd take quite awhile
I was a blue water sailor and an aircrewman too
'Was not much at all, that I didn't do
When I was 40, I retired from that too
Then I made the mistake
I should have moved west , but thought I'd a debt
To some fam'ly in Maryland I weren't quit of just yet
Then my wife to be came up. with the best news since we met
"Why don't we move to Arizona?"
She never knew, that I'd been here before
Or much of my past life back durin' the war
The grin on my face must'a scared her for sure
We packed up and left inna year
Not to, some overpriced HOA tract
Where they all look alike there all jammed in a pack
But out in the desert, with a pool in the back
Surrounded by mountains 'n cactus 'n trees
Picture Rocks ain't a town, it's a place on the map
Where we live a life free of citified crap
I can relax, with a cat on my lap
And damn near just do as I please
How can I be a cowboy, if I don't own a cow
Or have my own horses out in the corral
I reckon it's attitude; 'had that for awhile
That's all there is, that's left to say
If I make any money, at this poetry stuff
With any to spare, 'cause the economy's tough
We'll have a corral 'n tack shed soon enough
Out here where it's all Open Range
A couple of horses 'n a mule in the pen
Would satisfy me 'n the wife to no end
It'll give me more stuff to write about then
'Cause sometimes, it gets hard
Baxter Black
Everybody tells me
I should check out Baxter Black
He's s'posed to be the best there is
So, I reckon I'm a hack
But, I've never read ya Baxter
I dunno what you do
Fact is that I don't want'a
'Be afraid I'd copy you
It only takes a poet
A germ of an idea
So I don't want'a get no germs
Affectin' me, ya heah?
Influences are subtle
Sometimes, a word or look
Sometimes a memory long forgot
Turns out to be a book
I never know when I begin
Just where it's gonna go
Or how I'll go 'bout gettin' there
And make it rhyme, ya know?
This here poem is bad enuff
Accept my apologies
The idea for this just came to me
While cookin� a grilled cheeze
No offense there Baxter
But please don't feel alone
'Don't want no outside influence...
I do this on my own
(c) 2010 1/20 Shaw
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