STEAMBOAT AND C.D.
He was the horse that couldn't be rode
That is until the day that Clayton Danks showed
Those were the days when there was no hurry
You rode for all you were worth without worry
There was no eight second clock to stop the show
Hooves pounded the ground and spurs raked the "Go"
You rode that horse with all it takes
You rode him until you found the brakes
Clayton Danks from the 2-Bar in Chugwater
Forked that black beast and sat down like a squatter
Many had tried before but called it quits too soon
Clayton rode ol' Steamboat from early morn to late afternoon
He never let go of the chance to claim the trophy
Ridin' the horse that couldn't be rode for any amount of money
The best bronc rider Cheyenne ever saw, before or since
And if you doubt that, I'll say it again, without a wince
Now ol' Steamboat and C.D. are all over the state
And all over the map as icons on the Wyoming License plate
A treasured pair that no other state could compare
A whistlin' horse and a cowboy willing to take the dare.
© 2026 Brian McNeal
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UNEMPLOYED SPURS
There are spurs that jingle and spurs that don't
Spurs that work and spurs that won't
Shiny silver spurs with inlaid brass
And rusty old trophies of a cowboy's past
There are single spurs and spurs in pairs
Some you hoard and some you shares
Some in the tack shed and some on the perch
Spurs for work and spurs for Sunday Church
Mexican spurs and Gal-Legs compete for space
On the mantle, on the wall or in the display case
Some stay on the boots, ready for the ride
Some get lost and while we seek, they hide
Some spurs just plum get worn out
From too much work on a cowboy's route
Some we retire and provide room and board
Usually those are the ones we hoard
Retired spurs on a pension plan
For work performed as a sidekick to a horseman
Now, solely for the purpose of creating drool
From old cowboys who lost theirs like a fool
Spurs that jingle and spurs the shine
Spurs with a pedigreed bloodline
I can't think of a better collection to own
Than a herd of spurs causing old cowboys to groan
© 2026 Brian McNeal
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There are spurs that jingle and spurs that don't
Spurs that work and spurs that won't
Shiny silver spurs with inlaid brass
And rusty old trophies of a cowboy's past
There are single spurs and spurs in pairs
Some you hoard and some you shares
Some in the tack shed and some on the perch
Spurs for work and spurs for Sunday Church
Mexican spurs and Gal-Legs compete for space
On the mantle, on the wall or in the display case
Some stay on the boots, ready for the ride
Some get lost and while we seek, they hide
Some spurs just plum get worn out
From too much work on a cowboy's route
Some we retire and provide room and board
Usually those are the ones we hoard
Retired spurs on a pension plan
For work performed as a sidekick to a horseman
Now, solely for the purpose of creating drool
From old cowboys who lost theirs like a fool
Spurs that jingle and spurs the shine
Spurs with a pedigreed bloodline
I can't think of a better collection to own
Than a herd of spurs causing old cowboys to groan
© 2026 Brian McNeal
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