Give It The Old Cowboy Try

By Ken Hanson

It’s something that I think about,
Standing in front of this crowd.
I really don’t know if I’m qualified,
To read you a poem out loud.

Would I have the opportunity,
And would you listen to my tale,
About trying to write a cowboy poem,
Quite possibly to no avail.

You see, I really must admit,
It’s probably obvious to Y’all,
That I grew up in the city,
I’m not a cowboy at all.

Wait a minute, did I just say Y’all?
That sure sounds like cowboy to me.
Maybe it’s not about what you do,
But where you just happen to be.

I was born in the great state of Texas,
Amarillo to be exact.
I’ve lived here all of my life so far,
Proud to be a Texan, that’s a fact.

So what if I didn’t grow up on the range,
Riding and roping, wild and free.
I coulda’, I shoulda, I woulda’,
But I work for the Phone Company.

I was just like every other boy,
On Saturday mornings I’d be,
With Roy and Dale and Gene and The Duke,
Sharing their adventures on TV.

It’s quite likely that we’d have a gun fight,
Or help runnin’ down a wild herd.
I’d live their adventures, their lives, their songs,
I’d hang on their every word.

So how can it be that I didn’t become a cowboy,
The example they set.
Maybe because it’s hard to find a real one,
But if you look, they’re still around yet.

I guess it depends on where you grew up,
In the city, or the wide open spaces.
By chance would you even see a cowboy?
Would they hang out in those kind of places?

If I’da had my druthers, I’da lived on a ranch,
Or a farm, in a Lincoln Log Home.
But instead I find that I live in the city,
And spend my days on the telephone.

Maybe if my Dad had’a been a cowboy,
Then surely I’da been one too.
But he wasn’t, and I’m not, now my youth has been lost,
I guess my chances are few.

It seems if you’re gonna’ be a cowboy,
Then you’ll have to want that way of life.
The work is hard, the hours are long,
I bet it’s even tough on your wife.

If that’s the path you choose, then you better have,
The passion a cowboy’s life will demand.
Otherwise I’m sure it’ll eat you up,
And things will get way out of hand.

But if you can hack it, I’m sure you will find,
The rewards will be many and great.
People will point and say, “There’s a real cowboy”,
The burden is yours, but you’ll shoulder the weight.

So now I think that I’ve figured it out,
This writing a cowboy poem.
Though you live in the city, if your spirit is true,
When the right words come, you’ll know ‘em.

So, should I give it a shot, qualified or not,
And try to write poem number two?
I tell you what, I’ll make you a deal,
And leave the results up to you.

I promise that I will try my best,
To honor the cowboy in verse.
I’ll write it all down, legible next time,
Ya’ know, I might even rehearse.

So, what do you think, should I write number two?
Or just let the chance pass me by?
I promise that, with just a little encouragement,
I’ll give it the old cowboy try!