Sunday, December 15, 2013

Joker's Pay

If you can make a week old prolapse seem
Romantic as a school girl's dream
Describe the sweet and lovely things
That are held together with hog rings

You'll deserve a gold B.S. degree
In Western cowboy poetry
But writing poems and jokes and such
For this cattle crowd won't pay too much

You see they can't afford to pay to hear
The real value of a dying steer
Or all about that market mess
That brings on all their money stress

And doubt about tiny checks towards giant notes
Wore out over shoes and coats
And old gloves turned inside out.

And don't forget the numbers, write those great big numbers down
You see all that pretty equity and forty cents
Will buy a cup of coffee almost anywhere in town
And who here hasn't visualized that long dreaded day
When some sympathetic crowd, and a somber auctioneer
Sells your world away

Some bitter husband, weeping wife
Decides what now to do with life
And where to go, how not to feel
Like failures at the only thing they know

And so, Joker, if you make the poems and jokes
To entertain these Western folks
Who herd the cows and tend the sheep
For their sake, keep it light

And take the laughter for your pay
Because right now 

Tears are cheap

Dangerous Beef

I chanced to have a steak one day
I was eating lunch in town
And this lady I was sitting near
Just looked at me, and frowned

She said, "friend, think of your arteries,
Have you no good sense at all
You gobble saturated fat
And pure cholesterol"

"You'll be a soggy, sodden mess
When your heart blows to pieces
Gee, I wish you would appreciate,
How dangerous that beef is."

Well, my steak arrived and began to cool
Her words were like the blight
God, I hated to admit it,
But that crazy gal, was right

'Cause I've been hooked and punched around
Sustained cuts and abrasions
I've been crapped on or hooked so many times
I forget those small occasions

Seen broken arms, and broken legs,
Seen my share of bad backs
Because darn near all my cowboy friends
Have been hurt in beef attacks

An old cow once had me against the fence
She about mashed me in half
While I pounded on her beefy skull
The milk bottle for her calf

She ripped off my watch, and tore my shirt
There was lots of blood and fur
For years, each time I tasted beef
I prayed I was biting her

And that old cow and there is more like her
Who sure could raise a fuss
Ma'am, you don't exaggerate
Some beef is dangerous

But this cold steak is proof to all
Of these last words to be said
I am not afraid of beef
After it... is dead.