The Fishing Hole

They strolled along yapping,

bubbling with chatter,

all about Monster

stripping hooks cleanly.

Blue jays were barking,

sparrows in a frenzy,

Big Creek was rumbling

they heard without seeing.

Loading their hooks

with worms big as pencils,

they cast out deep,

skipped rocks while waiting.

They sat there all day,

the hot sun blazing,

and all they reeled in 

was a catfish and a sucker.

The Forest

The forest grew big trees,

some small and twigs;

leaves on the ground

grew deep in the seasons.

Through the deep forest

the boys patted trails;

from home to Big Creek

their paths intertwined.

Atop the ridges

on paths well-defined;

they looked at the meadows

at the larks and the quail.

A hut of stone walls

all covered with moss

protected a spring of water

that filled little bellies.

Along the small creeks

deep in the hollows,

the paths were earmarked

with boys heavy travel.

Beginning in spring

from school's last bell,

the forest they trampled

till roll call was held.

The Bathtub

Once a week on Saturday

they got a weekly bath;

this was a total disgrace

to the code of the West.

The water was always too hot,

the soap smelled too funny;

but in the tub they went

without their clothes on.

They begged and they pleaded

not to wash their hair;

and where were their six guns

in case they were needed?

Their skin curled all wrinkled,

trademark rings washed off;

just what would Ken Maynard

think of his men now?

The Big Brother

He was away in the Navy

somewhere upon the seas,

serving Uncle Sam,

whoever that dude was.

The cowboys saw his picture

at the post office in town;

they often dreamed of meeting him

on Main Street at sundown.

One day big brother came home,

his face sunburnt as fire;

he ate chow with the cowboys

with six guns loaded, hats on.

He poked fun at their duds,

told 'em to take a bath;

the cowboys said to be careful

he was still on dry land.

The Sisters

They were in high school

in the city no less;

and they listened to Elvis

on the radio A.M.

Bobbie socks they wore thick,

skirts below the knees;

they always wore sweaters

which cowboys resisted.

Saturday night was their time,

all day they spent primping;

when boyfriends came knocking

they got a bullet 'tween the eyes.

This went on for ages

till they all married off,

leaving the cowboys at home

with the radio and Davey Crockett.

The Dream

Their dream of being cowboys

went deep into the night

until they fell asleep

in a fantasy world.

"Look at my horse, brother,

I'll call him Silver."

"That's okay, deputy,

I'll take Trigger."

"We'll need some guns, you know,

maybe with pearl handles?"

"And don't forget the rifle,

one with a lever handle."

Riding high on the prairie

resting high on a cliff

looking down in the canyon

at rustlers they had surrounded.

Let's get going now

head 'em off at the pass;

"get up boys,

it's time for breakfast."

The Cowboys

They dreamed of being cowboys

up high in the saddle

with horses like Roy's

chasing bad guys forever.

Riding stick horses,

cap busters strapped low,

they hid in the woods dying

for bad guys to show.

Deep in the ground

the posse united,

mapping out plans

on their hideaway's floor.

When summoned for chow

from deep in their hole,

they used twigs and leaves

to cover their secret.

Their clothes were snow white

from the limestone dust;

just like real cowpokes

tracking rustlers till dusk.