can compare with the old-time cowboys in descriptions and outlandish sayings.
It might be because he spends a lot of time by himself thinking up the words than
practicing telling them to his horse. That may have contributed to the horse’s
disposition and actions at times. A
cowboy on a remote ranch camp near Wellington
once said, “The water in my well is so gypy that a meadow lark flying over my
well and storage tank will get diarrhea.”
Here are a few samples that come to
An elderly cowboy was asked if he wore depends. He answered, “That depends.” Another
said, based on his experiences, “One of the easiest things to do is to quit before
you are finished or finish before you are through.”
One good thing about living in a town with a one-block-long main street is, your
teenagers don’t burn much gasoline dragging main on Saturday night.
cowboy once described his boss as, “That old boy has friends in the Legislature
and the penitentiary and thinks no less of either of them for their membership.”
on a remote cow camp during monthlong blizzards with only a dictionary to read,
a cowboy penned this description of using a frozen corncob when he ran out of
toilet paper. “It was an infliction of simultaneous striations upon my psyche
and my tender tissues at an impressionable age and for an intolerable period of
the Old West days, a cowboy entered a saloon, ordered a drink and tipped his hat
back as he emptied the shot glass. His eyes opened wide, he turned red, gasped
for breath, stood on his tiptoes, sneezed, blew snot on the bar, began shaking
and trembling ,and finally keeled over backwards into the sawdust stiff as a board.
patrons gathered around with hats in hand as it was the first time a customer
had died taking a drink. After a few moments the downed man began shaking and
breathing, and rose up, and they helped him to his feet.
He leaned on
the bar and told the bartender, “My friend, have you got another shot of whiskey.
That hit the spot.”
cowboy sitting in his pickup outside a grocery story was approached by a friend.
“You mean you don’t have to help your wife shop for groceries?” The seated man
replied. “Aw, it was easy. Some years ago I waited for my wife to reach the toilet
paper shelves with her cart, and with the aisles crowded with other shoppers I
told her in a loud voice. ‘Honey, get the heavily-quilted toilet paper. It gives
a lot better traction.’ I was banned from helping her shop from then on.”
Another cowboy who lost a Saturday night fight by a considerable margin, smoothed
it all over on Sunday with this remark: “Sure glad I didn’t hurt that old boy
too bad last night. I hear he really needs his job and money for his family.”
Trew - September
27, 2011 column
Trew is a freelance writer and retired rancher. He can be reached at 806-779-3164,
by mail at Box A, Alanreed, TX 79002, or by email at trewblue @centramedia.net.
For books, see delberttrew.com. His column appears weekly.
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