COWBOY HOMOGRAPHY FOR CITY SLICKERS
You'd not forgive a mistake like saying CHev-ro-lay
And you'd not be too cool saying "CHic" for "SHeek"
No one drinks CHampaign any time of the day
It's not the way we've been taught to speak
You can forgive the cuss wearin' his hat backwards
Or the one who wears athletic shoes in the corral
When the dress and the manner seem awkward
Chances are, someone's in the wrong locale
Now, when a city dude pretends to be a cowboy
And the laughter makes your sides collapse
Try to hold your composure as he starts to annoy
When he says he's wearin' his brand new CHaps
A CHap wearin' CHaps is a phony
Like a cowboy ridin' a Saint Bernard
Like tryin' to say it's steak when you know it's baloney
When you know it's wrong, it's hard to disregard
The word they always mess up and give themselves away
Is pronounced with an "SH" sound as in "Shoot" or "Shoo"
Dudes who say "CHaps" instead of "SHaps" just don't know their way
So tell 'em to get a good pair of CHinks to get 'em through
But once he's learned the ins and outs of cowboy vernacular
And he's struttin' round like a peacock with a pedigreed bloodline
Tryin' to show himself off as some kind of cowboy spectacular
Watch out for the next cowboy-wannabe, telltale sign
That's when he thinks he's gonna really impress
But you know, somethin' 'bout him really stinks
It's not what he's wearin' for official cowboy dress
It's that now that he's been educated, he's wearin' SHinks
You'd not forgive a mistake like saying CHev-ro-lay
And you'd not be too cool saying "CHic" for "SHeek"
No one drinks CHampaign any time of the day
It's not the way we've been taught to speak
You can forgive the cuss wearin' his hat backwards
Or the one who wears athletic shoes in the corral
When the dress and the manner seem awkward
Chances are, someone's in the wrong locale
Now, when a city dude pretends to be a cowboy
And the laughter makes your sides collapse
Try to hold your composure as he starts to annoy
When he says he's wearin' his brand new CHaps
A CHap wearin' CHaps is a phony
Like a cowboy ridin' a Saint Bernard
Like tryin' to say it's steak when you know it's baloney
When you know it's wrong, it's hard to disregard
The word they always mess up and give themselves away
Is pronounced with an "SH" sound as in "Shoot" or "Shoo"
Dudes who say "CHaps" instead of "SHaps" just don't know their way
So tell 'em to get a good pair of CHinks to get 'em through
But once he's learned the ins and outs of cowboy vernacular
And he's struttin' round like a peacock with a pedigreed bloodline
Tryin' to show himself off as some kind of cowboy spectacular
Watch out for the next cowboy-wannabe, telltale sign
That's when he thinks he's gonna really impress
But you know, somethin' 'bout him really stinks
It's not what he's wearin' for official cowboy dress
It's that now that he's been educated, he's wearin' SHinks
© 2026 Brian McNeal
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FURRIES
Resoursefulness is a quality cowboys need to have plenty of
When there ain't no sheep or llamas around, look at the glove
Rabbit fur for lining. Sure 'nuff could work for chaps
Now if I could just get my hands on some traps
Well, before long, I had rabbit fur of every color and size
But the danged things were so small, they wouldn't fit my thighs
So resourcefulness comes back into play
I found a gal in town who said she could save the day
First she trimmed 'em up and squared 'em true
I had to stop her 'cause she wanted to dye some of 'em blue
There were whites and blacks and golden brown
But blue would just make me look like a rodeo clown
Then she stitched 'em all together and cut out the shape
We added a leather yoke, some leg straps and the great escape
We couldn't really call 'em woolies so "furries" would be the show
It was a sight to behold, I tell you, quilted cowboy chaps of calico
Resoursefulness is a quality cowboys need to have plenty of
When there ain't no sheep or llamas around, look at the glove
Rabbit fur for lining. Sure 'nuff could work for chaps
Now if I could just get my hands on some traps
Well, before long, I had rabbit fur of every color and size
But the danged things were so small, they wouldn't fit my thighs
So resourcefulness comes back into play
I found a gal in town who said she could save the day
First she trimmed 'em up and squared 'em true
I had to stop her 'cause she wanted to dye some of 'em blue
There were whites and blacks and golden brown
But blue would just make me look like a rodeo clown
Then she stitched 'em all together and cut out the shape
We added a leather yoke, some leg straps and the great escape
We couldn't really call 'em woolies so "furries" would be the show
It was a sight to behold, I tell you, quilted cowboy chaps of calico
© 2026 Brian McNeal
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CHAMELEON COWBOY
He was just like all the rest of us
Rode real well and knew his stuff
When it came to cows and bulls
He was nobody's fool
He joked and laughed with all the hands
He was a man completely worth his sand
Not a soul I know, didn't like his ways
When someone spoke his name, it was with praise
But then it all changed overnight
Something no one figured would be right
The subject of politics gathered 'round the fire
And suddenly, we had us a social quagmire
When true colors finally emerge
And you find your beliefs diverge
When you feel betrayed by former friends
Despair and sorrow fog your social lens
How do you palaver: when ignorance runs amok,
When stupidity is delivered by truck,
When polar opposites don't bend,
When "right-by-might" is the trend?
Losing respect for one you once saluted
Confirms a continued friendship unsuited
Keeping your head down low and hibernating
The feeling of isolation can be devastating
When reason is replaced with arrogance
And you can't seem to find common sense
You have no choice but to abandon
The friend you once called a companion
Changing colors to suit the occasion
Is only good for the reptile persuasion
Sleep through it if you can, but if you cannot
Be prepared for a battle to be hard-fought
He was just like all the rest of us
Rode real well and knew his stuff
When it came to cows and bulls
He was nobody's fool
He joked and laughed with all the hands
He was a man completely worth his sand
Not a soul I know, didn't like his ways
When someone spoke his name, it was with praise
But then it all changed overnight
Something no one figured would be right
The subject of politics gathered 'round the fire
And suddenly, we had us a social quagmire
When true colors finally emerge
And you find your beliefs diverge
When you feel betrayed by former friends
Despair and sorrow fog your social lens
How do you palaver: when ignorance runs amok,
When stupidity is delivered by truck,
When polar opposites don't bend,
When "right-by-might" is the trend?
Losing respect for one you once saluted
Confirms a continued friendship unsuited
Keeping your head down low and hibernating
The feeling of isolation can be devastating
When reason is replaced with arrogance
And you can't seem to find common sense
You have no choice but to abandon
The friend you once called a companion
Changing colors to suit the occasion
Is only good for the reptile persuasion
Sleep through it if you can, but if you cannot
Be prepared for a battle to be hard-fought
© 2026 Brian McNeal
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THE RAT HAT
Well, we gave him a lot of kiddin' the first day,
The day he came back from town with that hat.
That hat that he said pert' near cost a week's pay,
A week's pay that meant no beer, no fat.
Well now, he's got him a new waterproof hat.
Waterproofed by Ol' J.B. Stetson himself.
J.B. Stetson, "Boss of the Plains," at that.
A hat that ain't never gonna sit on no shelf.
A hat made of pure Nutria Fur from Argentina.
For sure he got a hat that would get him noticed;
Noticed by the girl at the cafe, called Cristina.
Cristina with the big brown eyes keen to focus.
Now some of the fellers, if not all, had no idea.
No idea at all, what Nutria fur really was.
We had to look it up in the big book we used to press tortillas.
Dismay and disbelief it was, because;
What we learned was his hat was from a rat,
A rat from South America he was wearin' on his head.
We teased him some mercilessly after that;
The cowboy wanted a beaver, but got the rat hat instead.
© 2026 Brian McNeal
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THE SCOTTISH COWBOY
Now this is a tale that's going to be hard to believe.
But, if you will listen carefully, I'm sure you'll get relief,
A good chuckle and maybe a guffaw or two,
And perhaps even a belly laugh, before I'm through.
Now, I'm gonna' tell ya all about the cowboy with the Scottish kilt.
He weren't no outlaw cowboy with notches for all he kilt.
He was a real workin' cowboy, heardin' beeves through dust and dirt
And that ain't no simple job for a man wearin' a Scottish skirt
McFee was his name, Hamish McFee from Aberdeen,
And after a day workin' with McFee, you won't believe what I've seen.
Now, you might be wonderin' the same as most folks do.
What do they do when the wind blows up, and it all turns blue?
Well, this is where the story get's a might colorful, if ya know what I mean
So, the faint of heart might want to whistle, or hum, or not be seen
But once I tell the story, you're gonna be grinnin' all night long
Just thinkin' 'bout the way things for a Scotsman can go wrong.
Well, we was ridin' along and makin' good time when a rank steer -
Bolted and spooked McFee's horse. The view from behind was clear.
McFee went head first over the horse's shoulders and ate the dirt.
When he was pickin' himself up, his head was beneath his skirt.
Rosy red is the best I can describe... and you know I'm talkin' 'bout his face,
As his embarrassment blushed brighter than the light at the painted ladies' place.
After that, McFee liked to ride the drag, just to keep from presenting a view.
You never know what an episode like that will do to a spiteful crew.
Then there was the day a twister appeared out of the Northeast.
We did our best to hunker down and keep calm the worst of the beasts.
But that devil had a mind of its own, and came for us like it had a plan.
It took our canvas off the chuckwagon, and made sure we all knew McFee was a man.
Well McFee was standin' there like the Lord made him on day one.
And wouldn't you know that was all that was needed for the fellers' fun
He ran after that canvas from the wagon, like a coyote after a roadrunner
With the fellers all follerin' and hollerin'; "McFee, you sure are a stunner!"
Well, things settled down for most of the rest of the drive,
But McFee was gettin' nervous about what might be the next surprise.
He started workin' on preventative measures, just to save face.
First he tried using hide glue to keep things down in place.
Next he got the cook's old faded, red long-johns and wore them underneath.
But he looked so comical, like a circus clown, that the boys wouldn't let him sleep.
He was just about to give it all up, when one mornin', he came walkin' up to the coffee fire,
Wearin' the most laughable contraption imaginable, like a man on stilts tryin' to get higher.
He had his leather reins cut down with snaps on each end.
Then fastened one end to his skirt flaps to help hide his friend.
And the other to his boot tops to secure the cover over his thing.
After a hearty laugh we realized he was the very first Scotsman with a kilt stampede string.
© 2026 Brian McNeal
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HIGH LONESOME ROAD
Travelin' down the high lonesome road,
A journey with a mighty heavy load.
A sojourner out on his own,
Feeding the hunger in his bones.
Scouting the way for the future to follow,
Leaving a little something for someone to borrow.
Adventures and dangers combine,
On the desert floor or in the high alpine.
The high lonesome is not always a road.
The road is sometimes only your abode.
The feeling of self and nothing else.
A treasured photograph and the loneliness melts.
A cowboy line shack on a long winter.
Thank the Lord for last year's news Printer.
Ride the line when the sun shines.
Look for spring's slow signs.
The high lonesome can be a sound,
The sound of the wind all around.
The quiet whisper in the tree tops,
The stillness when the snow stops.
No other human voice to hear.
No contact for most of the year.
Notes sent on a Wyoming telegraph -
Just a sentence, no room for a paragraph.
Miles and miles of all alone.
No one to greet me at home.
Just this old horse and me,
Ridin' heard on the lone prairie.
© 2026 Brian McNeal
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MISSING MY MULE EARS
Oh, the forgotten Mule Ears
Lost over time and years
Lost over favor and design
By sophistication not benign
A cowboy's flair and splendor
For attractin' the other gender
Or simply just for practicality
But always in plurality
What happened to those flappin' ears
Hangin' on the boot tops for years
Until a designer pulled out his shears
But not without a few cowboy tears
Some Eastern fashion guru
Said; "Too much ado"
When they said "Wowsers"
"Untuck those trousers"
No more fancy tops
No mule ear drops
No need for show
Next, what will we forgo
Like 'em or not, they're historical
Want 'em or not, can be hysterical
Need 'em or not, your choice
No ears, no need for voice
Oh, the long-lost Mule Ears
Ornamentation most clear
Doodads on display
For cowboy work or play
Oh, the forgotten Mule Ears
Lost over time and years
Lost over favor and design
By sophistication not benign
A cowboy's flair and splendor
For attractin' the other gender
Or simply just for practicality
But always in plurality
What happened to those flappin' ears
Hangin' on the boot tops for years
Until a designer pulled out his shears
But not without a few cowboy tears
Some Eastern fashion guru
Said; "Too much ado"
When they said "Wowsers"
"Untuck those trousers"
No more fancy tops
No mule ear drops
No need for show
Next, what will we forgo
Like 'em or not, they're historical
Want 'em or not, can be hysterical
Need 'em or not, your choice
No ears, no need for voice
Oh, the long-lost Mule Ears
Ornamentation most clear
Doodads on display
For cowboy work or play
© 2026 Brian McNeal
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THE DEATH OF THE MULE'S EAR
He had a mule he called Vango
One ear was missing, you know
And one, named Colbert,
Was missing the other, to be fair
Prince Edward, the Duke was his first
A mule with both ears gone was cursed
He hears not, Gee from Haw
Now that's a mule with a serious flaw
"Why do you have so many mules missing ears?"
Asked the news reporter from Goodyear
As a cowboy walked by with an eye full
Mule ears floppin' from his boot top pulls
'Twas the rage in those years
Pull your boots on by tuggin' on the ears
Little did we know it was just a name
And not a literal livestock game
So imagine our embarrassment
To discover the real element
We've got a new fad now, learned from letters
Something they call Turtle Neck Sweaters.
He had a mule he called Vango
One ear was missing, you know
And one, named Colbert,
Was missing the other, to be fair
Prince Edward, the Duke was his first
A mule with both ears gone was cursed
He hears not, Gee from Haw
Now that's a mule with a serious flaw
"Why do you have so many mules missing ears?"
Asked the news reporter from Goodyear
As a cowboy walked by with an eye full
Mule ears floppin' from his boot top pulls
'Twas the rage in those years
Pull your boots on by tuggin' on the ears
Little did we know it was just a name
And not a literal livestock game
So imagine our embarrassment
To discover the real element
We've got a new fad now, learned from letters
Something they call Turtle Neck Sweaters.
© 2026 Brian McNeal
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GRANDMA'S DETECTIVE SKILLS
It was me and Paul, cowboys and brothers
Me and Paul, teenagers on Grandad's ranch
Just two normal kids in trouble like the others
Two brothers looking for their big chance
Oh, we were good when we needed to be
We had manners and respect and discipline
We grew up with values implanted, you see
In the brain, or the seat of the pants, requiring acetaminophen
Grandad had rules and we knew what they were
But that didn't mean we didn't test 'em -
And try to find out how far the lines would blur
But most of our stuff was just mischievous and mayhem
Now Grandma had a different, softer side
And a gentler persuasion technique
She knew two boys like us needed to keep our pride
Her method of teaching was more unique
Now, this is just one example of how she operated
When me and Paul were gettin' on to our mid-teens
She knew that sooner or later we'd be a bit agitated
She knew we'd be looking for nighttime happenings
Well, goin' out at night at our age would never sit well with Grandpa
And she knew we'd soon test the boundaries, rain or snow
Instead of reminding us and letting Grandpa lay down the law
She quietly planted a mint garden under our bedroom window
Now two teenaged boys, that'd be me and Paul,
Never had no idea that mint would grow year 'round
And we had no idea how it proliferated, no sir, not at all
And that is how Grandma tried to detour us from ever goin' to town
Well, just like I said, me and Paul got a notion one night
We snuck out the window after they were sound asleep
We got the old feed truck and went to town to see the cockfight
Then we snuck back in the same way - without a peep
Next morning, Grandma said: "Well, did you boy's have fun in town?"
Now this was long before spy cameras and internet and cell phones
We had no idea what she meant, and we lied all the way around
We knew there was absolutely no way she could have known
Nothing more was said, and we were sure we'd gotten away with it
After a while when things got kinda quiet, we pulled it off again
Next morning we had a repeat talk while we bit our tongues with grit
But me and Paul never admitted that we were out raising Cain
Now, to tell you the truth, this Saturday morning chat
Happened several times and each time Grandma slyly winked
Knowing that if we let the cat out, Grandad would get the bat
Over time, we curtailed our escapades to keep from getting chinked
It wasn't until me and Paul each had our own little boys to raise
When Grandma sat us down and gave us some of her sage
That's when she told us all about two teenaged boys going through a phase
And a house that always had a sweet smell of mint to prevent a Grandpa rampage
Just how wise she was, is what we didn't know back then
Each night when we trampled that mint garden with our boots
We brought that aroma right into the house which told were we'd been
And now around our own homes, me and Paul have mint attributes
It was me and Paul, cowboys and brothers
Me and Paul, teenagers on Grandad's ranch
Just two normal kids in trouble like the others
Two brothers looking for their big chance
Oh, we were good when we needed to be
We had manners and respect and discipline
We grew up with values implanted, you see
In the brain, or the seat of the pants, requiring acetaminophen
Grandad had rules and we knew what they were
But that didn't mean we didn't test 'em -
And try to find out how far the lines would blur
But most of our stuff was just mischievous and mayhem
Now Grandma had a different, softer side
And a gentler persuasion technique
She knew two boys like us needed to keep our pride
Her method of teaching was more unique
Now, this is just one example of how she operated
When me and Paul were gettin' on to our mid-teens
She knew that sooner or later we'd be a bit agitated
She knew we'd be looking for nighttime happenings
Well, goin' out at night at our age would never sit well with Grandpa
And she knew we'd soon test the boundaries, rain or snow
Instead of reminding us and letting Grandpa lay down the law
She quietly planted a mint garden under our bedroom window
Now two teenaged boys, that'd be me and Paul,
Never had no idea that mint would grow year 'round
And we had no idea how it proliferated, no sir, not at all
And that is how Grandma tried to detour us from ever goin' to town
Well, just like I said, me and Paul got a notion one night
We snuck out the window after they were sound asleep
We got the old feed truck and went to town to see the cockfight
Then we snuck back in the same way - without a peep
Next morning, Grandma said: "Well, did you boy's have fun in town?"
Now this was long before spy cameras and internet and cell phones
We had no idea what she meant, and we lied all the way around
We knew there was absolutely no way she could have known
Nothing more was said, and we were sure we'd gotten away with it
After a while when things got kinda quiet, we pulled it off again
Next morning we had a repeat talk while we bit our tongues with grit
But me and Paul never admitted that we were out raising Cain
Now, to tell you the truth, this Saturday morning chat
Happened several times and each time Grandma slyly winked
Knowing that if we let the cat out, Grandad would get the bat
Over time, we curtailed our escapades to keep from getting chinked
It wasn't until me and Paul each had our own little boys to raise
When Grandma sat us down and gave us some of her sage
That's when she told us all about two teenaged boys going through a phase
And a house that always had a sweet smell of mint to prevent a Grandpa rampage
Just how wise she was, is what we didn't know back then
Each night when we trampled that mint garden with our boots
We brought that aroma right into the house which told were we'd been
And now around our own homes, me and Paul have mint attributes
© 2026 Brian McNeal
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BRUISIN' TOES
He said he was the only cowboy who couldn't dance
And she confirmed that with a downward glance
She had black and blue toes sticking out of her sandals
Something she blamed on a two-step vandal
It was her own fault, she admitted plainly enough
She'd begged and cajoled him to dance, knowing he was rough
But she learned her lesson, or so it would seem
One look at her feet and you'd want to scream
Years later, as she was telling the story of her dance with Jim
And the many reasons why no woman should ever dance with him
She said he always two-stepped one foot at a time
He was the cowboy with two left feet on the right-hand side
© 2026 Brian McNeal
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FOR THE LOVE OF LEATHER
I'm in love with el chaparejos,
But I flirt with el tapaderos.
My two besties when I'm surrounded -
By dangerous chollas and deadly saguaros
My BFF on the trail or drive.
Flipping the wings keeps me alive.
An angry bull or steer has no luck -
When my Taps begin to kick and buck
Chaps and Taps make a good pair.
Easy to see why they're a cowboy's love affair.
TBH - IDK if anyone else feels the same,
But, I'll bet you'll find some with just as big a flame
Functional and ornamental if you please
From the waist down with ease
And from the toes up to the knees
Cowboy armour against cactaceae
I'm in love with el chaparejos,
But I flirt with el tapaderos.
My two besties when I'm surrounded -
By dangerous chollas and deadly saguaros
My BFF on the trail or drive.
Flipping the wings keeps me alive.
An angry bull or steer has no luck -
When my Taps begin to kick and buck
Chaps and Taps make a good pair.
Easy to see why they're a cowboy's love affair.
TBH - IDK if anyone else feels the same,
But, I'll bet you'll find some with just as big a flame
Functional and ornamental if you please
From the waist down with ease
And from the toes up to the knees
Cowboy armour against cactaceae
© 2026 Brian McNeal
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CHECKIN' IN
I haven't heard from my friend for awhile
We rode together years ago when it was in style
Now we're old, gray and in the way
Sent a text just the other day
Returned, unable to send, they say
So I called, but only got voice mail
I wonder if he's ok, or just in jail
Hasn't answered my last e-mail
I hope he's ok and still alive
We've been friends since seventy five
Back when we knew how to be alive
But that was then and this is now
We need to have a long-distance powwow
Maybe a group chat somehow
A Zoom Call or Facetime
Some friendship Prime-time
Words can mean a lot sometimes
Give me a ring, a shout or a call
Checkin' in with a friend, that's all
It's no big thing, to do a roll call
It ain't that hard, pard, I said...unless you're dead
I haven't heard from my friend for awhile
We rode together years ago when it was in style
Now we're old, gray and in the way
Sent a text just the other day
Returned, unable to send, they say
So I called, but only got voice mail
I wonder if he's ok, or just in jail
Hasn't answered my last e-mail
I hope he's ok and still alive
We've been friends since seventy five
Back when we knew how to be alive
But that was then and this is now
We need to have a long-distance powwow
Maybe a group chat somehow
A Zoom Call or Facetime
Some friendship Prime-time
Words can mean a lot sometimes
Give me a ring, a shout or a call
Checkin' in with a friend, that's all
It's no big thing, to do a roll call
It ain't that hard, pard, I said...unless you're dead
© 2026 Brian McNeal
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