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It’s said that I’m a tenderfoot,
Not a Hoppy, Gene, or Roy,
But today I’m gonna ride a hoss,
Just like a real COWBOY.
A trail ride with theRiver Man,
McCurtain Counties’ best,
Our wrangler is Michael Manning,
He’ll put us to the test.
We novices are gathered round,
All tenderfeet, it’s true,
Michael looks us over, shakes his head,
Then tells us what to do.He says go look ’em over,
Our steeds we have to choose,
They’re saddled and their bridled,
Which one should I use?I pick out my caballo,
And it gives me quite a fright,
To find out one end likes to kick,
While the other likes to bite.Our wrangler gives instructions,
Mount up is his command,
I swing up on the lift side,
But on the right side I do land.I’m gotten up and dusted off,
Again I try my best,
I’m in the saddle facing east,
But my nag is facing west.When at last I’m mounted,
Micheal leads off in a trout,
Half the time I’m in my seat ,
The other half I’m not.One hand glued to the saddle horn,
The reins I pull so tight,
With my legs I get a grip,
Hold on with all my might.
But soon the tension starts to ease,
Things are looking bright,
So I relax and look around,
And taken all the sights.
Gently rocking to and fro,
It’s pleasant to be here,
The wrangler says to stay alert,
For we might see a deer.We ride by Glover River’s edge,
Across a grassy dale,
Then up a hill so rough and steep,
Oh what a thrilling trail.We stop atop a mountain ridge,
A panoramic scene,
There is a valley down below,
So lovely and serene.At least we reach our noon camp,
But dismounting is a test,
Something seems to be amiss,
Do I look like the rest?Strange, we all are walking,
With legs that are eschew,
Twisted in an awful shape,
Like an inverted U.Then comes a great epiphany,
That fills my heart with joy,
We’ve all become  bowlegged,
Just like a real COWBOY.We love our welcome respite,
At the “Bar-B” Barbecue,
The grub is hot and ready,
How much is up to you.We gorge ourselves on beef and beans,
Not knowing it’s a trap,
For when we hear Michael say, ” Mount Up!”
We’d rather take a nap.
With one foot in the stirrup,
We’ll swing up one by one,
But back into the saddle,
Is easier said than done.
Our wrangler helps some remount,
By pushing on their rump,
While others get a boost up,
By standing on a stump.At last I’m up astride my steed,
And riding on the trail,
But now my horse seems wider,
Between his head and tail.The saddle seems to rub me wrong,
My legs are paining more,
I notice I’ve begun to ache,
Where I’ve never ached before.It takes my mind back long ago,
To Cowboys of the past,
Pushing cattle to the north,
I wonder could I last?Too soon we’re back atRiver Man’s,
I’m standing with the rest,
Our wrangler says we’re Cowboys,
We’ve weathered every test.
Our legs are weak and trembling,
Our muscles stiff and sore,
Our backsides are so numb,
We rub them ore and ore.But each of us to tell the truth,
Has really had a ball,
And being dubbed a Cowboy,
Is truly worth it all.We say goodbye to Wrangler Micheal,
And go our separate ways,
Determined we’ll be back again,
To ride another day.So if you want to have some fun
GiveRiver Man a ring,
You too can be a Cowboy,
In Summer, Fall, or Spring.
Now don’t call me tenderfoot,
I’m a Cowboy tried and true,
And though part of me is tender
It won’t  fit in my shoe.