Ballad of Timothy Tungsten by Doug Bond
Mighty Timothy Tungsten
Was tongue-tied again
With a bridle in his mouth
His head full of gin.
He paced around the dim corral,
Dancing with the dogies
A half dozen wranglers
Laying odds and toking stogies.
Timmy Tongue took the lash
Straight upon his back
A stirrup staggered limp load
When dawn laid its crack.
When he finally found rest,
His body badly broken
All the hired help gone
The fires barely smokin’,
The bastards stole the bridle.
In its place left an apple.
Split him straight through the core
To the nub of his thrapple.
Five moons have come and gone,
And still Timmy dances
Crying for the Cowpokes
To engage his advances.
They watch the beat of hoof and heal,
The sparks off his boots
While the haberdasher sizes all
For pressed black wool suits.
–
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Way to go, Doug.