HE wears a big hat and big spurs and all that, And leggins of fancy fringed leather; He takes pride in his boots and the pistol he shoots, And he's happy in all kinds of weather; He's fond of his horse, it's a broncho, of course, For oh, he can ride like the devil; He is old for his years and he always appears Like a fellow who's lived on the level; He can sing, he can cook, yet his eyes have the look Of a man that to fear is a stranger; Yes, his cool, quiet nerve will always subserve For his wild life of duty and danger. He gets little to eat, and he guys tenderfeet, And for fashion, oh well! he's not in it; He can rope a gay steer when he gets on its ear At the rate of two-forty a minute; His saddle's the best in the wild, woolly West, Sometimes it will cost sixty dollars; Ah, he knows all the tricks when he brands mavericks, But his knowledge is not got from your scholars; He is loyal as steel, but demands a square deal, And he hates and despises a coward; Yet the cowboy, you'll find, to women is kind Though he'll fight till by death overpowered. Hence I say unto you,— give the cowboy his due And be kind, my friends, to his folly; For he's generous and brave though he may not behave Like your dudes, who are so melancholy. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN HOSPITAL: 10. STAFF NURSE: NEW STYLE by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY ELEGY TO THE MEMORY OF AN UNFORTUNATE LADY by ALEXANDER POPE THE MAN WHO RODE TO CONEMAUGH by JOHN ELIOT BOWEN MY SON'S SON TO HIS SON'S SON - PERHAPS by MABEL RUTHERFORD BRIDGES WHILE SPAIN SMOLDERS by STANTON ARTHUR COBLENTZ LOVE IN DEATH by GRANT HYDE CODE |