First, I'd ask
if he could
teach me to walk that way;
with stiff legged authority
as if I were the sherif in town
and I'd want to ride tall
in the saddle,
(with proper cowpoke posture)
so no one could dare look better,
or steal my prairie cloud thunder
and I'd need to know how
to slip the noose of
prickly horse rustlers,
or any other thieves I might
encounter on the round ups
and learn to drink
like a lead gutted cowboy;
fist hard liquor
that would burn my tonsils...
I'd toughen to swallowing
as if is were honey
(no wincing, nor coughing)
and wipe my mouth with the
sleeve of my shirt
and spurs; yeah, I'd have
him show me just how to wear them
so they'd jingle, jangle
exactly as they're s'pposed to,
and even before I'd kick
the saloon doors open,
I'd wish the poor bastards
would know it was me comin'.
I'd want to be taught
how to cheat and win at poker,
without losing any fingers
over the dirty deed
just the way I've seen
in re-runs of old western movies,
we could split the loot
in my saddle bag
underneath the hanging tree.
(VLQ v3 e1)
