COWBOY POETRY 1

September 19, 2009

Ol’ Diablo

Reckon it’s fate

Put me up on Ol’ Diablo

The lily-livered son of a whore


Noble a steed

As ever rode a mountain pass

In the dead God gone of winter

The lily-livered son of a whore


Swam me across

A roaring rage of river

Broke through barriers of ice

Foundered in snow

Plowed proud to a purpose

With nary a complaint

Got me home

The lily-livered son of a whore

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