COWPOKIN' FUN

© 1989 by Carol Tallman Jones

I've heard these dadgum poets
who like to write in rhyme
spout all their cowboy knowledge
for the hundred-millionth time.

They brag upon their mustaches
and say that one must grow it
or one can't be considered
what they call a cowBOY poet.

If BOY is in the buckaroo
then am I a buckarette?
If deleted from cow-boy poet
am I then a cow-poette?

Since I haven't any whiskers
and I'm sure that I will not,
I must be the only cow-poette
standin' in this spot!

While they wax their handlebars
and spout their tales so wise,
are these cowboys poets--
or cow-poettes in disguise?

Old Ben Aitken over there
who changes hats each line,
looks mighty like a cow-poette
wearin' a bonnet half the time.

Howard and Art from Caldwell
who do dress a little funny,
could be borderline cow-poettes.
Did you hear him call Art Honey?

Now, if Rudy is a cow-poette
his wife would never tell.
She's much too much the lady
but did call him "Tinkerbell."

That pretty boy who flaunts the scarf
of silk around his neck
and wears those skin-tight Levis...
is he a cow-poette?

And all these whiskered other boys
who wear these pointed toes...
Don't it make you wonder some
about their underclothes?

So if you are a cowboy-girl
and want to be a poet,
remember:


some are Cow-Poettes
...and some

Cow-Pattys and don't know it!

:) cj

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