He kin walk a blazin' desert
Or ride in a ragin' blizzard—
He kin swim a snaky river—
Take an arrow in the gizzard.
He kin win at crooked poker
Or have a shootout at high noon—
He kin dance round the hangman's noose
Or bay like a wolf at the moon.
Of all the bad things in the West,
There's one thing what sets off his riles—
It's when he done and rode too long
And gits a bad case of the piles!
Oh, there's jest not no thing that's worse
And the curse of all the cowboys,
Than that dang ol' blazin' saddle
And a dern bunch of hemorrhoids!
And though the time will come some day
When them riled piles will come up tame—
Fer now they's a pain in the butt
That makes all us ol' cowboys lame.
Yep, if I had all my druthers
And still had most my manly wiles—
I'd rather be ridin' pillows
When I come down with them ol' piles!
Originally Posted On Site: 2009-10-15 14:24:56
Last Login: 03.02.10
Visits as of 12-12-07: 274
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