WESTERN RHYMES: WRONG DOOR

COWBOY POTTERY

I went to one of these Cowboy POETRY events

Attending as a guest, certainly not as a poet

There were a lot of mighty fancy pots and some not worth two cents

I felt like I was in the wrong place, and didn't know it

I was the only waddie in the place with boots and hat

All the others looked like tourists on vacation

I heard no one reciting rhymes but saw plenty of clay commissariat

And I was really longing for a Gail Gardner quotation

How did I get myself into a place like this?

I felt like a fish outta water for certain

Something somewhere was surely amiss

Mud, everywhere but no stage and no curtain

Finally I found another bewildered looking chap

With hat and boots and disappointment on his face

He'd gotten there earlier and discovered the trap

It was just a simple matter of being in the wrong place

He took me outside and pointed to the marque

Yup, I'd seen it, but didn't let it register in my head

The noble letter hanger was certainly no cowboy marquis

Poetry was misspelled. Cowboy POTERY is what it said

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THE FRAGRANCE OF COWBOY POETRY

The aroma of the barnyard is well known

To cowboys who know about the outhouse throne

But they know very little about the smell of fresh flowers

And the fragrances that change on the hours

So you can imagine the consternation I'm about to tell

About a bunch of us gathered to hear poetry told well

But instead we found a room full of ladies sellin' wares

The kind of stuff for which a working cowboy has no cares

There were dried flowers in plastic and aromatic spices in jars

But no where could we find a story about Whiskey Row bars

Everyone was nice enough and that weren't no concern

But we came to hear about cowboys, not some exotic fern

After the mornin' session while we were gettin' coffee and chow

One of the other cowboys came over for a bit of man-to-man powwow

We figured that something didn't tally up just right somehow

But we didn't figure on learning how dried plants can be a cash cow

We were just plain ranch folk with no pretense for highfalutin talk

So we were sure dumbfounded, sittin' there, watchin' that slow clock

The afternoon drug on and on and Chester next to me went to sleep

The subject we was hearin' 'bout dryin' twigs and leaves, was just too deep

Then they handed out certificates saying we passed the class

We had no idea the stuff they was feedin' was for fail or pass

We were wantin' Cowboy Poetry from Waddie Mitchell or Charlie Russell

But we sure didn't expect no smelly Cowboy Potpourri hustle.

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COWBOY YARNS

Well you know what happens when a feller gets in the wrong door

I know you know 'cause it's somethin' I done told ya before

But now here we go again, and you got to believe me this time

'Cause you don't know how hard it is to tell a story in rhyme

Now this is all about the time these two fellers got pie eyed

It was some time ago when they had 40 saloons to be tried

Well they gave 'em all the first go 'round and was startin' back

When they saw a sign that said: "Cowboy Yarns In The Sack"

Well that suited 'em both just fine. It was a good yarn that was needed

They stumbled in the door, found a couple of chairs and sat down unconceded

The hostess greeted them and inquired about their specific needs

They just said they came in 'cause they saw the sign, indeed

Well they reeked of whiskey and 'baccy juice and stale perfume

From the carousin' they'd been doin' in each and every honky-tonk saloon

So the hostess politely asks if they might prefer a better seat in the garden

Now, bein' on the outs with the law means they heard only the word "PARDON"

And they both jumped up and said, "Yes ma'am, I guess, for that, we're both in"

So out the back door and right up front of the gazebo ready for the first tall spin

Being the only one's there, they figured they were early so they'd just sit and wait

Then they started in namin' all those old yarns they always liked, and thought were great

They named the "Sierry Petes" and "A Bronc for Breakfast," then the one about "Reincarnation"

And I'll be darned if they didn't spend the whole afternoon namin' ever poem in tarnation

Soon the light was fadin' and the fellers were wonderin' about where's the show

No poets ever got up to tell no tall tales or big windys or even a fine hello

They got up and wandered back to the front just as the shop was closin' for the night

And asked about where the Cowboy Poetry was, 'cause they sure missed it alright

"Cowboy Poetry?" asked the surprised hostess with befuddlement and wonder on her brains

"This is a textile shop where we sell bundles and bundles of colored yarn in skeins!

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TWO COWBOYS NEEDED

Well, a week had gone by and our two friends were on the street again.
Down one side, all the way, stumblin' drunk and not knowin' where they'd been.
Just as they was about to go the other way, they saw a Help-Wanted sign;
"Two Cowboys Needed For a Job This Afternoon - Must Be Good with Twine."

So in the door they fell. The lady inside seemed to know them well.
"I'm glad it's you two," she said, "I think you boys will do just swell."
" I'm told that you two know somethin' 'bout tyin' knots."
"I'm hopin' that your special skill will get me outta this spot."

Well, the boys started to sober up quick with money on the table.
Any job to do with ropes and knots and they knew they'd be able.
She led them down some stairs to a hellish place, hot and dark as pitch.
No windows of any kind, just a furnace with a dim light and the boys began to twitch.

What kind of job was this anyway? She never did really say.
Around the room were racks and racks by the dozens, every which-a-way.
A hell of a mess with nothing in order. Just a bunch of chaos.
Over in the shadows was an old gypsy lady conducting a seance.

The room was strewn about with the product the lady sold upstairs.
Someone or something had come through like nobody cares;
Instead of the order and structure necessary with a system.
She told the boys to straighten things using their cowboy wisdom.

So the boys began to untangle hundreds of bundles of woven string,
Twisting and turning and pulling, unwinding and gathering was the thing.
The lady needed a lot of this stuff upstairs to resupply her stock.
Stuff was going out the door faster than a widow at a cakewalk.

It was that yarn shop from the week before,
Where the boys left disappointed and sore.
They were havin' what they called "ONE HELL OF A SALE."
And that is why the fellers spent all afternoon UNtyin' knots...now ain't that a devil of a tale.

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THE GATHERING AT ST. MARY'S

Awhile ago I told you 'bout the gathering
That was held in the Pottery show
And the confusion from the blathering
Clay dishes and pots and Cowboy poetry faux

Well, it seems people everywhere can mis-hear
Just when you get to thinkin' you're good to go
Someone comes up with a variable veneer
And you're in the wrong place, at the wrong show

And so it is, here we go again with the Catholic Church
Cowboys with boots and hats and pizza plate buckles
Plowin' through hymn books and nothing works
Sittin' in a pew with all the pomp, it's hard to chuckle

How'd we get this gathering to happen at St. Mary's
Was there no other facility to hold us all?
It's not like cowboys can't benefit from God's intermediaries
But we weren't necessarily there to answer the call.

Finally, when Father Murphy stood up and welcomed us
We 'ciphered the mistake of the weirdest Cowboy Poetry
He asked us all to open our programs and began to discuss
And that is when we learned the day was all about Cowboy Popery

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THE COWBOY CARNIVAL

Now these two fellers you've heard about before
The one's who always mangage to find the wrong door
Well, this story ain't no differn't, no sir, not atall
This is the story about these two at the Cowboy Carnival

Well, they was a standin' in the line waitin' for to go
Just wantin' to get inside to witness and see the big show
Might be a giant elephant or a bearded lady or two-headed sheep
They'd heard 'bout those fantastic things like the twin freak

Now Ol' Sandy, he looked at Buster with a big ol' grin
He said Gail had told him 'bout a girl so thin
You could hold her up to daylight and she'd not make a shadow
Well, the line was long but the fellers were anxious with their dough

Finally they opened the tent flap and the folks started to crowd in
As each one paid their fare they sat and waited for the show to begin
The tent walls were covered with posters of fully tattooed women
With bold, bright colors like red and yellow and persimmon

The stage was empty with just one spotlight shining in the center
They waited and waited but there was no show for the price to enter
They heard the faint voice of the barker outside drumming up more
"See the bearded lady, the four-legged man, the bizarre and the hardcore"

Still, they waited and just as the crowd began to get impatient,
Out came the Emcee, in hat and tails, with an announcement, ill-fated
"Folks", he said, "Looks like there ain't gonna be no show in the tent"
"'Cause we can't find a freak anywhere these days. Not for sale or rent"

"They're all out there among you, doin' their act for free"
"So look around, they're everywhere, on every street"
"It's gettin' so we can't tell the difference no more,"
"Between the audience and the show on the floor"

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JIBBERDING AND WHIPSTICK MATCHUP

When it comes to matches, this one takes the prize.

No matter who wins, the thrill is in the viewers eyes.

And that's you. You get to be in the front row seat,

While we watch together to see which takes the defeat.

Now this is the contest to see which of the two wattles is best,

The Whipstick from the East or the Jibberding from the West.

Now, you got to know your stuff before you make your bets,

'Cause this could go either way and that's not just a guess.

Either one could come out on top and the ref will be watching.

He's a former gunfighter with handles that still need notching.

The handbill tells it all - A Matchup Between Two Big Wattles,

But why did the crowd throw everything including the beer bottles?

Now, you'll start to understand the confusion blunder.

When they brought that event up from down under,

Most of the crowd thought sure it was a misprint,

A spelling error and not at all what they meant.

They assumed it was going to be a Poetry Event,

Just like the last time the venue held it in the tent.

Cowboy poetry from two big waddies is what they read,

Even though that is not at all what the handbill said.

Well, now a contest between two acacia plants,

Is a lot different than two cowboys with a word dance.

No wonder the crowd went wild and out of control.

Seems defensible enough for people with their role.

From out behind the curtain, came our two cowboys,

But barely a word could be heard above the crowd noise.

Each was holding a small plant as they stood opposed,

And right then and there, the whole fraud was exposed.

The crowd finally knew it was not to be a cowboy poetry show.

Instead they were an experiment as a focus group from the git-go.

Thought they were at a town meeting to decide the best waddie,

But, acacia didn't hear him, he said, "do you want the West Wattle?"

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GATHERING MEANS RODEO

I don't know how this came to be

But it was certainly a mystery

Taking a lot of investigation

To discover the source of this capatation

The crowd couldn't understand

The ruckus in the grandstands

Why did the chickens cross the arena?

Herded by some cowboys from Argentina

There's Wally McRae, up on the microphone

Trying desperately to read his poem

When feathers start flyin' in all directions

Giving all some misconceptions

Next we knew, some Latina girls

Gave the contest a different whirl

They were runnin' barrels on ratites

Ostriches and Emus under the lights

If you ever wanted to see a cowboy circus

This was the occasion for sure and certain

And you should've heard the crowd howl

When someone in the rafters released the gamefowl

In the middle of Baxter Black's recitation

They decided to give us a different presentation

From over on the far side what looked like a mob

Was cowboys on foot, chasing a flock of squab

Of course there were injuries and a few cuss words

Not injuries to the cowboys, but rather to the birds

Well, ol' Bax didn't miss a beat and jumped over the net

Got those birds splinted and bandaged just like a vet

What a sight we had that night, a real conflaberation

Nothin' anyone had ever seen in all of tarnation

What was supposed to be a cowboy poetry show

Turned into an impromptu poultry rodeo

Now, this was meant to be a fundraiser for charities

But the sheriff had to investigate the peculiarities

What he found was almost as strange as the event

Seems a complete breakdown in the language segment

A flyer sent to Lima Texas went to Lima Peru instead

Not knowing the words, it was AI translated and READ:

Poetry, which to them sounded like Poultry or Pollo

And a gathering meant a roundup or a rodeo

So it was natural for them to conclude Americans were loco

They spread the word around about the money above the Rio

And before we knew it we had thousands commin' across

Disrupting every Cowboy Poetry gathering like an albatross

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WRONG DOOR

WESTERN RHYMES

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