The Last of the Red-Hot Cowpokes (having just been to a cowboy potluck)

That lonesome cowpoke wasn’t rough,  wasn’t tough,

He didn’t chew terbaccy, he didn’t use snuff,

He couldn’t find time for gurrls ‘n stuff

But  Galloping Guernseys!  was that guy BUFF!

He was called by the name of  “Sexy Lex, the Tex-Mex”,

Had a hound he called Rex, a wild horse he called Hex.

They got up before dawn, ate their bacon and ekks,

Rode the range all day long, finished up total wrecks.

When the sun went to settin’ they’d make up their camp,

Bile them some coffee, light their coal-oil lamp.

The ground round the fire was soggy and damp

Lex and Rex hunkered down while Hex snorted and stamped.

They all got to fussin’ ‘bout fixin’ some chow.

Sexy Lex, Rex and Hex wanted to eat,  like,  right now.

Trouble was, with no cook,  nothin’ ever was ready.

Their bellies would rumble, their legs were not steady.

What to do?  Food was needed, they couldn’t wait longer,

They kept gettin’ weaker, they had to get stronger.

They searched through their saddlebags, couldn’t find nothin’,

Not even a crumbly left-over corn muffin.

What’s this, soft and puffy?  Marshmallows,  all sacked,

Sounded good but it’s cowpoke-type food they all lacked.

Rare steak, lots of beans, roasted spuds, nuthin’ green,

Sourdough flapjacks.  Dang! no real grub to be seen.

Rex pawed through the saddlebags once again, then he found

Boxes of grahams, bars of chocolate;  more than a pound.

Cried,  “We can’t wait much longer, it’s time to do chores’

Us macho cowpokes gotta chow down on S’MORES”

But all was not lost.  Sexy Lex was surprised;

Six gorgeous cowgirls rode  in with supplies.

As they whooped and they hollered, they laid out a feast,

Bags of Big Macs ‘n Super Fries fed Lex and the beasts.

And so it all ended, that night on the range.

Looking back, it did seem to be mighty strange;

The last of the cowpokes, Sexy Lex and his pals,

Saved from starvation by a posse of gals.


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