Country-Fried BULL
POEMS

		   Was it Good Bad or Bad Good (Luck)?
		by Bob Kinford -- copyright 1999 


		I was lopin' along back 
		gunna string out the drag 
		We'd made a pass 
		an to string they did start 
		When hidden in the grass 
		wuz a badger made hole 
		Ol' Sorrely started down 
		an I stepped off, 
		almost, 
		Oops....Ol' Sorrely's on my foot 
		Tis OK, I thought 
		as he stumbled up 
		and I sat back down 
		Then came hole number two 
		and I thought my life was through 
		The world went dark 
		as Ol'Sorrley went over 
		and I stayed under 
		He was up in a flash 
		but things weren't quite right 
		My head was in the air 
		but real close to the ground 
		Yup, I was hung 
		with both feet in the air 
		I hollers "WHOA" 
		an Ol'Sorrely does 
		Then along comes the boss, 
		an oilman turned rancher , 
		to "save the day" 
		He'd seen all the movies 
		just so he'd know just how 
		to catch a wild runaway 
		Well he spooked Ol'Sorrely 
		and the race wuz on 
		Sorrely runnin' an a kickin 
		tryin ta lighten his load 
		I covered my head 
		to protect his feet 
		Knowing I was at my end 
		which was where 
		Ol' Sorrely kicked again 
		Only this time high I did go 
		and one stirrup did let go 
		The heck I thought 
		I still might see 
		yet another snow 
		an I tried to roll 
		to have my foot pop free 
		But my foot stayed as if rooted 
		to Ol' Sorrley's side 
		An looked up to see 
		my spur stuck in the cinch 
		Tween Sorrely a kickin' 
		an me a jerkin 
		the spur broke free 
		and after a bounce and a twist 
		so did me 
		They said I had good luck 
		to survive such a wreck 
		not only alive 
		but with no bones wrecked 
		If my luck was so good 
		there shouldn't have been no wreck 
		but I guess I shouldn't complain 
		just wish they'd exlplain 
		was it good bad luck 
		or bad good luck 
		to have had the wreck at all 

Bob Kinford- horse mumbler/cow whisperer
notlazy@presys.com

http://www.2lazy4U.com
2lazy4U Livestock & Literary Co.- The only livestock & literary Co known to the IRS
copyright 1999 Too Lazy For You Livestock & Literary Co. All rights Reserved 

THE STORM
	© 9/99 All Rights Reserved * David Kelley
	
	
	Steppin' off that gelding, I could see there
	was trouble on the home front.
	Her shoulders were squared to mine, no doubt
	I'd soon be bearing the brunt.
	
	God she was gorgeous, her long blonde hair 
	out shown the sun a mite.
	There were tears, I could see them shimmer
	in the evening's dying light.
	
	It was evident her graceful fingers were
	trembling as I grew close,
	And I pondered what distress had caused 
	her emotional overdose.
	
	How long had she been waiting..could our love
	recover from this plight?
	I know it's tough for her, with me gone all day,
	sometimes through the night.
	
	Running the place took time from her, and
	occasionally dang the cost.
	I could see I'd shore have to weather 'this'
	storm, or likely dang the loss.
	
	The closer I got, I marveled how small she was,
	although she was tough.
	I'll never understand where women get their
	inner strength and stuff.
	
	I could hear her crying softly now, her fair
	face a terrible sight.
	Whatever the wreck, it would test my skills to
	make this problem right.
	
	She ran to me and buried her face in my chest.
	knowin' she was secure,
	I held her close, and it was enough, standing 
	quietly she would endure.
	
	I lifted her angelic face and kissed 
	away a lingering tear,
	"Don't fret your pretty head darlin', it's all right 
	now..Grandaddy's here."

                           Contact David Kelly at david.kelley@wsfp.com 

If I Had It To Do Again
	by Writer Ray Lubben - Copyright April 13, 1999
	Ray's version of the #1 Broken Hearted Beer Drinking Song (of the moment).
	
	We fell in love in March, got married first of April.
	By the first of May, love had lost its thrill.
	You filed for Divorce, your lawyer made it sting.
	You gave me the finger, and sold the diamond ring.
	If I had it to do again, now that it is through,
	I would do it all again, but do it all on you!

The Waterloo
	by Writer Ray Lubben - Copyright March 1999	


	I was in The Moose Saloon, feeling sort of overcast,
	when a cowboy and his dog quietly walked past.
	They looked a little ragged, didn't hold their heads too high,
	but a spring was in their step and they looked me in the eye,
	so I figured they were honest, and they probably were poor,
	but I thought no more about them until Bull stepped in the door.
	Bull doesn't know compassion and he always wants to fight
	so I figured there was trouble for the stranger here tonight.
	Bull started makin' fun of the dog and of the man,
	said, "I ought to kick you out, just because I can."
	The man paid no attention, as if he didn't hear,
	but stepped back from the bar when Bull made him spill his beer.
	Bull said, "Oho, you're angry. I'll whip you with one hand,
	but I usually fight with two when I'm fighting with a man, 
	but since you're less than nothing, and your dog is gonna die
	after I break your back and poke you in the eye,
	I will throw you to the fishes in the scummy green canal
	which will bring an end to you and your ugly canine pal.
	The stranger wasn't little and when Bull threw out a punch
	the stranger caught his hand and I heard the bones go crunch
	as he squeezed on old Bull's knuckles and Bull's pants got soppin' wet
	so I thought it was his Waterloo that Bully Bull had met.
	The stranger held his grip as his voice came sharp and hard,
	"I better warn you mister, if you think you'll harm my Pard,
	I have a little story which I think you ought to hear,
	after which you will be payin' for the spillin' of the beer.
	I rodeo'd in Seattle, was robbed while in Spokane
	where I nearly lost an ear while in the County Can.
	They said I was a bum 'cause I hadn't any money.
	I didn't want to go to jail, the cops thought it was funny.
	They sprayed me with some pepper, and punched me with their fist
	until the lights and concrete room faded to a mist.
	I wakened as the Deputy dumped me in a ditch
	at the edge of town where he thumped me with his stick.
	He tried to make it plain I wasn't wanted back
	as he worked me over good and gave my legs a crack.
	He kicked me in the belly, I felt a rib go slack,
	I started in believin' the words he said were fact.
	"He might be gonna kill me," was the thought within my mind,
	I knew he wouldn't do it, his nature was not kind.
	His radio was squawkin' so he took off in his car.
	I took off by crawlin' but didn't get too far
	before darkness overtook me and a field became my bed
	where I went unconscious from the places that I bled.
	Early in the morning when the frost lay cold and white,
	I wondered how I'd lived through the frozen night.
	It was then I realized my arms were holdin' tight
	to a scrawny ugly mongrel who'd stayed with me the night.
	We struggled to our feet, his pads were thin and bled
	and any fool could track us by our tracks of red.
	We ate out of a garbage can 'til we were chased away.
	We found a cardboard carton, wherein we could stay.
	That's how we took to livin', me and dog called Friend,
	and we'll always stay together, to the very end.
	So, Mister, if you push us, or say we are no good,
	and that we ought to travel beyond your neighborhood,
	I'll suggest you shouldn't push us or give us any trouble -
	if you're kickin' us around we will jump you on the double.
	We been down that road, and rolled into the ditch,
	but me and Friend are honest and our mother ain't a bitch.
	We both are used to trouble and will always stand our ground.
	We never try to run away or try to walk around,
	so if you think you're tough, or that me and Friend are trash,
	We will have to prove you wrong, 'cause we both can kick your ass.
	The stranger let Bull go and turned back to his mug.
	I felt like jumping up and giving him a hug.
	Bull fumbled out some money and with a face all pale
	asked the stranger if his dog wanted his beer in a pail?

	
Writer Ray vaquero@smgazette.com
Ray has three different books for sale. Monte Jack (western novel), Stray
Dogs (short stories and poetry), and Cowboy Rhymes & Other Times (poetry).
Monte Jack costs $7.00, the other two $5.00 each, plus add $3.00 postage
each. Allow a couple weeks delivery time (unless it is Elk hunting season.)
 

Contents Page Poems More Poems The Goat The Goat, Part Two Bullapulting The Cowboys And More Poems Jokes Last Night at Trapper's Cabin Dummies and Stupidities Manure Happens Subscribe or Submit Material