From Chuck Sullivan

 
A month ago I didn't know,
Who the heck you are,
But now it's startin' to seem as so,
I found me a cowboy risin' star.

I know you 'sociate with Willie,
Who's rubbin' off on who?
It's hard to tell you guys apart,
With this cowboy thing you do.

I guess maybe I have the stuff,
to  write some poems well enough,
But I've never known a cowboy's joy,
Since I've always been a city boy,
Writin' cowboy poems would shore be tough.

 Maybe if I'd move to Texas or Arizoni,
and buy me a saddle and a spirited pony,
And git me an old pick up truck,
Then I might be set to try my luck.

But I got no ten gallon hat or cowboy boots,
 I ain't never rode in no rodeo,
I've just become a lazy ole coot,
with no gumption to git up and go.

But the problem I got ain't obscure,
I'm broke as hell and that's for sure,
I can only dream of  those trails I'll never roam,
I'll just read whut you 'n Wille write,
and smile at you in my sleep at night,
 From right here, in my Oklahoma home.