by Paul Harwitz
In the middle of the State of Wyoming, in Natrona County,
Sets a ranch which puts the “SOL” brand on nature’s bounty.
The SOL’s a brand that’s known far and wide,
All throughout the countryside.
The current owner’s great-grandpappy won it in a poker game,
And since then, that family’s life has never, ever been the same.
You see, things just don’t often turn out the way you’d expect they should
For a ranchin’ family to earn sufficient livelihood.
The patriarch of the family narrowly escaped a stock detective
Who claimed that the old gent and his neighbors had brands defective.
Then he had to stand trial for the investigator’s death,
Which he said was owin’ to a stumblin’ horse fall removing breath.
The great-grandpappy was acquitted, but was so elated,
That he was just plumb loco over-joyed,
And ’cause of that, he from a heart-attack expirated.
Needless to say, his wife and kin were exasperated.
Next came the grandpa, who found more mavericks than anyone,
Which more than a few times, almost cost him his health.
Some larger outfits cast a suspicious eye on his wealth,
Then laughed when hoof-and-mouth condemned his cattle every one.
The pappy always dressed and acted right snappy.
He charmed the ladies a mite too well.
But a glib tongue could not a shotgun blast dispell,
So the other woman’s husband made the widow unhappy.
On the son’s shoulders rest the name and brand,
Both known throughout all Western land.
He’s also inherited his ancestors’ work-habits and pluck,
Which explains why he’s so often, uh, out of luck.