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The Corner

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Cowboy Poetry, I Wish I Knew How to Quit You



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For those of you still skeptical bout Harry Reid’s pleas to keep federal funding for his cowboy poetry festival, tell us you aren’t lassoed in by such stuff as this:

Or this:

Or the opening stanzas from this poem byone Baxter Black which, we have it on good authority from the folks at cowboypoetry.com, “defines cowboy poetry:”

Legacy of the Rodeo Man
by Baxter Black

 

There’s a hundred years of history and a hundred before that
All gathered in the thinkin’ goin’ on beneath his hat.
And back behind his eyeballs and pumpin’ through his veins
Is the ghost of every cowboy that ever held the reins.

Every coil in his lasso’s been thrown a million times
His quiet concentration’s been distilled through ancient minds.
It’s evolution workin’ when the silver scratches hide
And a ghostly cowboy chorus fills his head and says, “Let’s ride.

You can find more here.



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