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Wild West Songs and Poems

Cowboy & the Dream Girl


by Paul Harwitz


Walking into the Moonlight's dimly-lit bar,
I saw a vision that entranced me from afar.
A shapely female figure sat coyly on a seat.
I thought to myself, "That's a lady I've got to meet."

From the back, she looked incredibly svelte,
And I guessed she'd have a face that would make my heart melt.
Two cowpoke pards at the far end motioned me to join them.

"Don't look right at her yet," whispered Clem.

"Yeah, if he sees you eyeing her, he'll fight you," warned Ty.
"Who?" I asked. "The one next to her, is he the guy?"
"And don't dare act like anything at all is wrong,"
Added Clem, "or he'll start a one-man riot before long."

"Is he that jealous?" I asked, "like in a sad cowboy song?"
"Just follow our lead," cautioned Ty, "and play along."
"You can take a gander real fast now," Clem said,
"'Cause he's making a quick trip to the head."

I started with her beautiful, silky, long blonde hair,
But when I got to her face, I stopped cold right there.
"Boys," I whispered, "lessen I'm crazy, she's made of wood!"
Ty said, "Yep, she's a timber version of beautiful ladyhood."

Clem explained, "His girlfriend ran off with a bull-rider
The day before yesterday, and he went plumb loco.
He bought this wooden gal and he keeps staying beside 'er.
He'll get violent if you act like you know."

"He keeps buying everybody drinks," Ty detailed,
"So that's another reason not to let his delusion get derailed."
"He's a cowpuncher named Henry," Clem said, "and he's coming back."
So, I sat in silence and spied like nothing was off-track.

Henry apparently thought he was having a sparkling conversation
With that gal whose upright parents were of a forest derivation.
The dress looked expensive and slinky, and fit her right good.
It seemed a durn shame that instead of being human, she was wood.

The Moonlight's staff let their arriving patrons know on the sly
Not to let on they thought anything was wrong with this girl and guy.
I don't blame them. He was buying drinks for everyone there who was alive.
And besides, Henry had blacksmith-wide arms and stood six-foot five.

Every night he was in there with his new sweet-heart,
With him buying drinks for everybody and acting the part
Of a devoted, lucky, fully attentive boyfriend.
I thought to myself, "This story's bound to have a tragic end."

He kept buying her pretty dresses to wear,
And sometimes at the bar, he would gently stroke her golden hair.
But when the next full moon came, Fate his fair dream did dash,
Cruel as the woodsman's ax when he fells a tree to make it crash.

I came into the bar early for a change, and saw him sitting alone,
Like a repentant sinner who feels for his misdeeds he must atone.
"She left me," he moaned, "and I'm the saddest of all men.
She forsook me and ran off with that handsome cigar-store
Indian!"

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