|
Cowboy Poetry
THE OUTPATIENT’S LAMENT—I WISH I WAS A COWBOY!
Sam Parry
I wish I was a cowboy, out ridin’ on the range,
Then broken bones and aching backs wouldn’t seem so strange.
I wish I was a cowboy, I’d spit Pain in the eye,
You wouldn’t hear me whimper or wail or even cry.
I wish I was a cowboy, all bronzed and tough and bold,
I wouldn’t feel the blazin’ sun, I’d laugh at frozen cold.
I wish I was a cowboy, my gut would feel no pain,
I’d ride out in the howlin’ winds and head into the rain.
I wish I was a cowboy, no twingeing muscles sore,
No wimp who whispers, “Poor ol’ me!”
I’d live the frontier lore.
I wish I was a cowboy, at broken bones I’d scoff,
And if my foot got really bad,
Why—I’d shoot the damn thing off!
The truth is I’m no cowboy, my belly’s soft as jello,
I feel the aches and pains and groan
‘Cos I’m a sad, sad fellow.
There’s not a day that passes by that I don’t grieve and bitch
About my many creakin’ joints, dyspepsia and the itch.
I wake up with a promise, each morn I make a vow—
But then . . . I’m not a cowboy, more like a bleedin’ cow,
For when I feel an ache or pain, in head, or butt, or thigh,
I start to think of that pine box ‘cos sure I’m gonna die.
And e’en tho’ the medic says there’s naught for me to dread,
I’m such a wuss—a scare’dy puss, all day I stay in bed.
So, here I am a’waitin’, once more my leg is numb,
I think it may be gangrene and it’s spreading to my thumb.
Oh, yes, I wish I was a cowboy, I’d meet the doc and say,
“Get thee from me, sissy pants, I don’t need you today!”
But then . . . I am no cowpoke, so I’ll sit and wait my turn
To gripe and fret about my leg and moan about my burn.
So, there you have it, my good friends,
The cowboy is my hero,
And should next life I have a choice. . .
Why—I’ll be a wild Vaquero!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
