Little cowgirl all gussied up
and right for her first rodeo.
All of four foot two, or so.
Broomstick Sally must be hitched
and grazing by the patio.
Always seems to be a hop-a-long trail
or train engine with cow catcher
that awaits someone else's beck and call-
just 25 cents is'all, ya know.
But then there are those nights
so cold could catch a death.
The air so thin, can't catch your breath,
and all that six gun fires
I'm told, is blanks anyway.
So say "No, thanks anyway"
if that's what's in the offering.
Yes, the Brownie snapshots
can all be cropp'd;
the fantasies all been photo shopp'd.
The outlaws who would rob you
should be run out of town
for trying to steal your
precious secrets away.
It's only a short ride we're taking
so please if it's believe
that ever you'll be making,
make it last a little bit,
don't quit for just
a little bit longer.
Let's be friends, little cowgirl,
and we'll see what round up
next winter will bring.
