The Namin Of A Cowboy

Painting by Lorna Dillon

The Namin Of A Cowboy


Seems’ he’d just been treadin water
His life seepin thru a sieve
When he dreams of new horizons
And some other life to live

With no idea where he’s headed
He ends up in Montana
Lookin for some honest sweat
To soak his new bandana

He’d never lived in northern weather
So without a lick a sense
He finds a cattle ranch near Bozeman
Hirin with no experience

He goes to workin as a ranch hand
Bunkin with some old clods
Who just have to find a nickname
To lay on newer wads

He’s anxious to live the cowboy life
So they toss him some spurs
He looked them over real puzzled
‘N said: Are these his ‘n hers?

With the sense of a bi-polar bedbug
Not knowin which end to start
They watch him try figger ‘em out
And it becomes a work of art

He lashed ‘em up over his boots
Spurs stickin up in the air
To maybe use them pigeon-toed
Underneath the belly hair

The next time that he put ‘em on
They looked like roosters spurs
Stickin out sideways to the inside
So he duck-waddled in curves

Now someone finally showed him
Just how to strap them on
They could’a named him Rooster
But there was more to come

He never did take off them spurs
Like a fireman in a scurry
Droppin his britches over his boots
So he can take off in a hurry

The weather starts a’ chillin down
It’s gettin toward November
The mornin frost is on the punkin
T’was a winter to remember

Come January the ground is froze
And we’s feedin the cattle hay
Icicles hangin right to the ground
Could be that way until May

Now this sunny SoCal greenhorn
Ain’t never seen such ice
Big icicles hangin from the barn
They was lookin real nice

So he walks up to get a closer look
Not like no country hick
Gettin close he sticks his tongue out
And decides to have a lick

Ain’t no need to guess what happened
His tongue stuck there froze
There he was with a big ‘ol popsicle
From the roof down to his toes

He begins to squirm ‘n grunt and groan
Tryin to get someone to help
There was cowhands workin in the barn
‘N they finally hear him yelp

Goin out to check all the commotion
They find the funniest sight
Seein this novice all boots and spurs
And he’s hung up in a tight

Grabbin the coffee pot off the stove
They pour it just a trickle
To warm his tongue and let him loose
Now they call him- Popsicle!

Well, cowboys don’t waste syllables -
they actually called him “Lick.

Ed Keenan © Copyright All Rights Reserved.