the manly cowboy
settled in for the night,
after a long day of
pure athletic delight.

delivered the mail
did they,
deliciously slow
as any snail
on the go.

he opened
and read,
that a young brave was
a looking for his head.

so he got to thinking,
i'd better still wander,
way over yonder,
way over here,
so 'n he can a ponder,
ifn'  he is still awantin'
to be,
scalpin' me?

never one to hurry,
why ever  scurry?
the brave young lad,
or young lad brave,
he,
couldn't possibly be that bad!

i'll give him some time,
and not start to whine.
(and most certainly not in rhyme)
we can find,
i  am sure,
just the right cure.
thought the manly cowboy,
think did he.

many a mate,
but never as a date,
he did spend
with many a good friend.

not that he minded,
nor cared, where love was a finded.
nor with who,
nor whom,
that's entirely up to you,
before you are laid to rest in your tomb.

out in the wild,
did he spend,
many a night and day
and not a one,
did go astray.

always polite.
nary a fight.
i'll give this good brave guy
a little time to go by,
just a little to fly.

he will be a findin'
i don't be a mindin'
differences in thoughts
differences in gots.

i might be having a few
but i shall say to you,
'Hey buddy
what do you say?
think we can be friends
one day?'

with that optimistic thought
in mind
he turned to his bed roll,
rolling out in a straight line,
lookin' to find,
only,
a peaceful night's sleep
never hearing a peep.

and a brand new day,
coming up his way.
always curious to see,
ever unfolding,
however they been molded,
life's great mysteries.

with that,
he tipped his hat
over his eyes,
so very gentlemanly.

your hot like fire
your admire by me!

your one of a kind
a awsome finded!