Out in front of Salton's Saloon,
Cowpokes jeered at the wild antics;
In the heat of day at high noon,
A wrangler was dang near frantic.
Standing there, him and the critter,
Staring each other in the eye,
Neither one appeared a quitter,
In this contest of "do or die".
The stubborn steed kicked up fine dust,
And the fellow dug in his boots,
Yanking the reins till they near bust.
Onlookers gave hollers and hoots.
Belle and the other gals came out,
On the second floor balcony,
Till Sid Salton looked up to shout,
"Back to work! Nothin' here to see."
Reins became tangled and twisted,
Somehow looped through a wagon wheel;
Still, the nervous mare resisted,
And the cowboy's boot lost a heel.
Pushing, pulling....nothing would work!
The cowboy grew more frustrated.
Wiseguys shouting tips to the jerk,
Near got him infuriated.
All at once, the animal's head,
A-flailing about as it did,
Slammed hard onto the wagon bed,
Scaring bejeebers out of Sid.
The wrangler cursed and held on tight,
As the horse wildly bucked and neighed.
This added to the mob's delight -
By the hitch rail, bets being made.
The cowpuncher, plumb crazy now,
Shoved the bronc with all of his force.
It all proved futile, anyhow -
Putting the cart before the horse.
© By Richard McCusker (rmrickmack@aol.com)
