WESTERN RHYMES: JIGS 'N RIGS

BAD LUCK MULES

"Well, them sure am good mules there mister,"
That's what the ol' coot said in a whisper
I had a poster sign on the wall
"For sale - two mules - cash call"

I said, "They're sure coon-tracker mules"
"Bred from Mammoth Jack and well-schooled"
"Those are Arkansas mules from Waterloo"
"I call one, 'ACES' and the other, 'ACES TOO"

"Yes-sir, them sure is good lookin'," he said.
"But I can't buy 'em, no matter how they's bred"
"Well," I replied, "It don't have to be cash"
"I can take a trade," as I stroked my mustache

"No, that ain't it, you see, I already have two"
So my salesmanship kicked in with a new spew
"Well, a four-up team would sure make that haul"
"Comin' up the grade out of Laramie, faster'n a crawl"

"You're right, 'bout that, but I still don't think so"
"You see mine are spotted with a match, you know"
"Each with the same little spots on their keister"
"So, you see, I can't buy your mules, Mister"

"You look like a man with good credit, who'd like to own -
A fine pair of mules, and I'm sure the bank would make a loan"
"No, that's not the thing either," he said, sorta confounded
"It's just that I don't need my bad luck compounded"

Now, I'm bewildered, and I scratch my head
"How can this be bad luck," I said
"How can two fine mules be anything,
But...but...but, a wellspring?

"Well, you see," he muttered, "my two mates"
"Have four spots each, sos I call 'em my eights"
"Just imagine I'm all hitched out front of the saloon"
"All loaded and tied down and ready to git home soon"

"Would the town think of me as a fool or a joker
As they shoot up quick and stop playing poker
And pour out onto the walk through those swinging gates
The moment I holler: "Git up there, Aces and Eights."

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QUICKER SLICKER

We called him "The Weatherman," but his name was Jake
Most of the time he could predict anything 'ceptin' a quake
Like the time he told us all to leave our spurs on our bunks
According to him, we'd be better off with canoes and swimming trunks

Rain was the biggest problem out on the range
If a cowboy got soaked, he had no dry clothes to change
Most of us carried a slicker tied on behind the saddle
And most of the time we could see the clouds in time to skidaddle

But every once in a while someone would come back
Soaked to the skin and shiverin' 'cause they forgot their mac
Or sometimes just because they diddle-daddled way too long
And the rain was on 'em while they were still tellin' Jake he was wrong

Now Jake never did succumb to the pitfalls of bad weather
He always maintained his dryness, like his skin was duck feathers
No matter the conditions of the elements, Jake was dry
None of the rest of us could match that no matter how hard we'd try

Then one day I made sure to stay close enough to Jake to view
While all the rest were fumblin' with their tie strings or grabbin a wad to chew
Jake had his slicker on and was ridin' hard for cover
Soaked as I was, I followed close, reckoning to discover

Never did find out the secret, at least not for some while
But I kept up my habit of stayin' close to Jake, mile after mile
Then one day, it just dawned, like I'd been lookin' at the wrong end of the cow
I knew it wasn't the way he got his slicker off, but puttin' in on was how.

As we were loadin' out one day, I watched close, the way Jake did his rig
He had some fancy way of keepin' his slicker tied on, like keepin' on a wig
It weren't no kinda glue or tie straps but some sorta ribbon with roughness
Some was riveted down behind his cantle that looked something like pumice

He had another piece of something sewn onto his raingear
That's when I figured him out and everything became clear
He never had to fumble with cold hands untying wet leather straps
He never had to get soaked to the skin before he could get back

Well, my curiosity got the best of me, so I asked for a show
That's when he told me it was something they called Velcro
Ya get it at the hardware store in town, and it only costs a little
It's better'n duct tape 'cause you can use it over and over, and it don't get brittle

Well, I kept my mouth shut and never said a word to a soul
Until Jake moved on to another outfit and his secret I stole
That's when I became the bunkhouse number one tricker
I won a ton of cash and loot bettin' I'd be the one with the quicker slicker

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SEVEN DAY SPURS

"Get your spurs up off the floor and out of the way"
That's what you get when you got spurs for everyday
Most are satisfied if they are lucky to own just one pair
But a cowboy with seven pair is a cowboy with flair

Workin' spurs for Monday, plain and practical
Easy to clean, so the mud is retractable
Utility spurs for the job that needs doin'
Just a pair of workin' spurs, not for viewin'

Tuesday's spurs have a bit more leather
Well-Oiled Straps can be used in any weather
And a bit more ornate with initials engraved
Nothing fancy, but certainly well-behaved

Mid-week spurs for Wednesday start to shine
A little more fancy than those off the line
Handmade spurs by a master craftsman
Spurs built strong, to outlast this man

Thursday spurs have larger rowels on the shank
Just the right size for reachin' the horse's flank
Polished up nice with a sparkle and a shine
Thursday spurs are branded with a bloodline

End of the week spurs come 'round on Friday
Just the right kind of spurs for both work and play
With a silver and brass overlay on the outside
And tooled leather straps from top-grain cowhide

Just the thing for Saturday - Ropin' spurs
Header spurs, healer spurs and winner's spurs
Lucky spurs, the kind you guard with your life
Man-sized spurs, not for your wife

My favorite spurs are my Sunday Spurs, you bet
Cowboy bling with rowels that sparkle and spit
Polished up to a blinding shine,
Hear the rowels whistle and whine.

Spurs for every day of the week and a spare
The spurs you keep on display with care
The king of all spurs, worthy of double jinglebobs
Built for show but strong enough for any cowboy jobs

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ZIG ZAG

We never knew just what he'd do in any given situation
Sometimes he'd drink beer and sometimes he'd have a libation
Some days, he'd ride point and some days he preferred the drag
We could never know for sure, so we always called him Zig Zag

He never argued, but he also never agreed
He was about as unpredictable as a filly on loco weed
To do what was unexpected was what he expected to do
Imagine trying to keep everything copasetic with the crew

We knew, long ago he'd been in the big war in Italy and France
He never talked much about it, he'd just get in a trance
One day, he let it slip that that's where he learned his instincts
But only after we lubricated him up with several mixed drinks

He said he used cigarette papers for reports, 'cause they were thin
And if the Nazis ever got too close, he'd just roll 'em up and smoke 'em
No one ever thought much about a person having rolling papers
They were about as common in those days as city neighbors

That's when we discovered that he was no ordinary soldier
With a few more drinks, we got a little more disclosure
He worked for a secret branch of the army under a code name
He was known as "Bugler" back then, another rolling paper's name

No wonder he'd turn left when we thought he'd go right
Now we know how he dodged capture in the middle of the night
He was never in that bed on the night they raided the farm
Instead, he was counting train cars, far from the harm

Sending the intelligence on Bugler rolling papers by pigeon
Dodging the enemy and trying to stay out of a Nazi prison
Always looking over his shoulder and covering his tracks
Zig Zag was a very fitting name for a feller with a deceptive past

To zig when one should zag is most often an error
Due to limited foresight or inexperience or just lack of due care
But, a calculated zig instead of an expected zag, sometimes
Just might mean that you're the one who survives

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LEATHER MAGIC

A clean saddle will give a better ride
You and your horse will enjoy it more
With a little care and conditioning applied
All the way out and back to the barn door

Want a faster, easier transaction?
With a better price when sold?
A word of advice for your satisfaction;
"Like New" always looks better than "Old"

Leather magic for saddles and tack
Comes with plenty of personal elbow grease
Make your old saddles come back
Just one hundred twenty five apiece

Photos before and after
Tell the tale better than speech
On the fence or hangin' from the rafter
Prices are within your reach

Conditioning and minor repairs
Renew or replace as required
Detailing with utmost care
A hell of a hobby for a guy retired

A clean saddle is good horse sense
Meet in safety at public location
Will deliver at no extra expense
Contact me for a conversation

More than twenty years of know-how
Saddles, tack and collars for the breast
Treat 'em like they were still on the cow
Contact via Craigslist Relaymail is best

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TWO SISTERS NEED A BULL

Two sisters inherit the family cattle ranch
Soon they realize success hasn't got a chance
To make it work, they need to buy their own bull
But the piggy bank is a lot less than full

With only six hundred dollars to their name
They find a bull they think can play the game
But he's on a ranch far away in another county
So one sister sets out to acquire the bounty

As she heads out the door on her way
She makes a plan with her sister who must stay
She'll send a message if she makes the acquisition
Then sister can come and handle the transportation

When she gets to the ranch and inspects the bull for sale
She decides he'll do the job without fail
The rancher says he'll sell for five ninety-nine and nothing less
The sale is made, and she's off to send a message about her success

She tells the telegraph operator she needs to send a wire
To her sister and tell her to hitch up the trailer and air up the tires
She needs her to know she bought the bull, and he needs a ride
So the ranch can be saved next year when they can sell some cowhide

The operator tells her it'll cost her ninety-nine cents a word
But with only a dollar left, she can't afford the message she preferred
So she thinks it over and works it all out in her mind
Then tells the telegraph man to send just one word and leave it unsigned

She tells him to send the word: "Comfortable" and nothing more
But how will your sister know everything you just said before?
"How will she know to bring an empty trailer and go home full?"
"Easy, my sister is blonde, she'll read it slow," "COME-FOR-DA-BULL"

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CHIGGER

His name was Chigger, and it was befitting,

'Cause mostly he wasn't more than a pest -

In your face all the time or just getting -

Into something that wasn't the best.

He always wanted special treatment -

To be singled out from the rest,

Without doing anything to earn it.

No matter, what, he couldn't pass the test.

We tried putting him on night guard,

Just so he'd sleep during the day.

But every job he had seemed too hard.

Not good at work, but excellent at play.

Caught him nappin' on duty one night.

Tried to convince us he had one eye open.

But he did sound the alarm alright.

When the horses escaped the rope pen.

Well, we put up with him and his grovelin' ways,

Because he had such a friendly personality.

He couldn't really help that he'd slip off into a daze,

And he never showed a single sign of brutality.

When he finally cashed in his chips,

We buried him deep, covered with an earthen pad.

We put up a marker on his grave, in script.

It said: "Here lies the friendliest dog we ever had!"

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TWO BLIND MULES

A pair like these, you've never seen

Except maybe in some magazine

Matched Appy mules, sixteen hands

Twins at birth, side by side they stand

Look-a-likes, yes, one in the same

Except in draft, with collar and hame

But, each one had his own mind

And each one had one eye blind

Now one was blind on the right

And the other had no left sight

Imagine the calamity

When hitched against sanity

Well, to tell you true, we had wrecks

Always puttin' collars on wrong necks

One needed to always be near

The other, needed off-side gear

Switching their places wasn't smart

But, we could't tell 'em apart

Then gee became haw, you see

And the driver'd give a mercy plea

Ain't no such thing as "git along"

With a team that's been hitch'd up wrong

Jumpin' traces and tradin' places

And driver shoutin' foul phrases

A fine team when properly hitched

Otherwise, team and rig likely ditched

And, so you'll no longer ponder,

We named 'em Hither and Yonder

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JIGS 'N RIGS

WESTERN RHYMES

Contact BRIAN McNEAL