The Accidental Aerialist

By W.A. "Bill" Daniels (Po8)

You ride horses, you get throwed, that's a fact.  Mostly, what makes a cowboy isn't not gettin' tossed, so much as it is gettin' back on after yer through spittin' out the dust and brushin' off your jeans.

 

At Santa Ynez in the Year of Our Lord 2005, our friend, Dee Yarnell, drew two mounts that tested her mettle -- and came up smilin'.

 

This poem is dedicated to Dee and to all you buckaroos nursin' bruises and broken bones in between whoopin' and hollerin' down the trail.
 


 

Now gather 'round friends

I've a story to tell,

'Bout the earth and the sky

and our pard, Dee Yarnell.

 

It was there as we gathered

our ponies to ride

Dee Yarnell mounted Dunny

and then almost died.

 

"That old Dunny, he's quiet

and lazy and fat."

That's what Lee Graham told her anyways,

he said it as fact.

 

But that Dunny horse heard Lee

and worry ensued.

"My boss thinks I'm lazy,

Am I to be glue?"

 

So Dunny determined to show

up our Lee.

And caught in the middle

was innocent Dee.

 

That Dunny he waited

till Dee had her seat.

Then commenced to start

buckin' and runnin' to see

if he could unload Dee Yarnell in a hurry.

 

'Cause rodeo horses

they don't have to worry

'bout french chefs

or glue pots 'cause

that's not their fate.

 

As for Dee, all she could do there

was count up to eight.

 

Then the sky dropped to meet her

as through it she flew.

And the earth rose to greet her

she landed -- KERPLEW!

 

And she was all right

she told everyone there.

But Dee on the ground

was more than Lee Graham could bear.

 

He put her on B-Paint

and said "He's a treat!"

And B-Paint he heard Lee

and well, there was a repeat.

 

So rodeo cowboys

tip your hats to your queen.

Here's to Dee

and to Advil

and acepromazine.

 

THE END

 

 

 

 

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