Cowboy Poetry

Today I’m gonna teach you how to climb up on the saddle. You gotta do it right,  or Heaven knows what you might straddle.

Your left hand grabs the saddle horn. Your right hand grabs the seat. Put your left foot in the stirrup. Now pull up. Your mount’s complete.  

Well, Ma’am, I see you’re askin’ if this horn can make a squawk? It’s a piece of wood and leather, and it’s almost hard as rock.

So this here horn is quiet; it will never make a honk. Why, a noise like that would scare your horse right back into a bronc!

Yes, I know there are some animals whose horns we blow for sound. But those horns are long and hollow, and this horn is saddle-bound.  

Well, go ahead and try it, but this horn won’t never beep. You’re talkin’ about drivin’, Ma’am. It’s a saddle, not a jeep!

No, I’m not especially angry, we just need to move along. No, the horn will never make a sound. (I’m tellin’ you, you’re wrong!) 

I think we need to start again. Are we finished with the horn? (This day could be a long one. I’m already feelin’ worn.)

You say your neighbor has a horn he put on his new saddle? And you say he blows it every day to call in all his cattle?

Ma’am, I’ve never seen a saddle with a horn that makes a noise. So, lady, blow your horn. (Gotta tell this to the boys!) 

I’ll be danged! I hear it honkin’! (I’m pretendin’ just for you! I love to hear my saddle horn play, “Feelin’ Mighty Blue.”)

So hop up on your saddle.  Honk your horn and play a tune. We’re gonna get this movin’. (Hope this day will end real soon.)  

And tomorrow when we start again, the horn won’t have a name.  I’ll say it’s where you hold on tight. I’m done with that horn game.)