Banjo and John
Tales of good cow ponies in our country abound
Distinguishing truth from fiction is sometimes tough I've found
Good horses are made by good men ,as a rule
I've got a tale to tell ya' so drag up a stool
Ole' John could sure brag about his ropin' ace
He said none could compare when he's givin' chase
Banjo can foller a rabbit right into his lair
And squirt out the other side without mussin' your hair
I had occasion to witness such deeds
Twas early a fall morn while gatherin' steeds
John was behind 'em a pushin' 'em down
When this rabbit cut loose, a gatherin' ground
This may sound strange, but I'll assure you they're facts
Ole' Banjo fell in, knockin' out the hare's tracks
The rabbit's sly as a fox and quick like a cricket
So he ducked off to the right into a sand plum thicket
Into that thicket, Banjo plunged like a deer
John lost his reins so he couldn't steer
The plum bush thorns was as sharp as a knife
Ole' John was beginning to fear for his life
Then "Bugs" cut a trail into the wide open prairie
And the site that befell me was truly quite scary
John's clothes was all gone, 'cept for his old Stetson hat
But Banjo wasn't quittin', I'll assure ya' of that
Ole' Bugs, being agile, led most of the time
Banjo on his tail, till John gathered his lines
Battered and bruised, the blood runnin' red
They slid to a stop there in the riverbed
But off to the north, they'd spooked a buck deer
Guess Banjo thought it was a yearlin' steer
Zero to fifty in six seconds flat
John settin' there naked, 'cept for his ole' crumpled hat
The deer hit the ground just as light as a feather
Banjo behind him, John still grabbin' leather
The wind in John's face upturned his hat brim
Guess John hadn't noticed that underslung limb
The thud was as deafening as a rifle shot
I'd never seen such a whoopin' as the one John got
He lit flat on his back there in the prickly pear
I just knowed John was dead 'till I heard him swear
Then relief and elation was the feeling I had
John's as close as I got to being my dad
But had he not revived, we'd have buried him down south
Cause the thought was sure sickenin' of mouth to mouth
As for Banjo, his pony, his trackin' is fair
He'd tracked rabbit and deer without mussin' John's hair
Not a hair out of place, the gospel I'm tellin'
Cause upon losin' his hat, John was slick as a melon© Jay Snider, All rights reserved
These words may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.