08/16/2024
In honor of Rodeo starting tomorrow!!
Twas the night before Rodeo, when all throughout the east coast
Not a cowboy/cowgirl was rustling, not a lasso was loopin’;
The boots were all lined up next to Wranglers and buckles,
(And medical boxes packed for the inevitable);
The horses were nestled, each snug in a stall,
While visions of second-cutting enchanted them all;
Lainey Wilson in her hat; Blake Shelton in his jeans,
Had just called it a night from practicing their routines,
When outside the barn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the camper to see what was the matter.
Away to the midway, I galloped, I trotted,
Fast as I could so I wouldn’t be spotted.
The moon in the sky, and the lights from the Loop
Gave the luster of mid-day, helping me snoop,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature cowgirl, and eight goats following near,
She couldn’t have been more than 10, maybe 11,
More rapid than stallions, her billy goats they came,
And she whistled, and shouted and called them by name;
“Now, Dickey! now, Dusty, now, Billy J and Harry!
On, Gus! on Luke! on, Mo and Larry!
To the goat tying ring! Now let’s hit the dirt!
I’ll prove to them all! I’m a tough little squirt!”
As rainshowers through the rodeo arena fly,
When they meet with a Dodge Ram, blow to the sky,
They leaped over fences, into a dirt ring,
Like a little overacheivers, taking up wings.
And then, in a thunderclap, I heard them all stomp
They were prancing and pawing – a full ovine romp.
As I followed behind, crouching low to the ground,
To the arena, the cowgirl came with a bound.
She was dressed for her part, from her hat to her chaps,
Her flannel shirt buttoned with little pearl snaps;
She stared at the goats, never turning her back,
As she pulled a GoPro from a small leather sack.
Her eyes – how they twinkled in anticipation!
Her cheeks flush with freckles in loose constellations!
Her droll little mouth beamed a pre teen grin,
As she scanned her arena, taking it in;
She grabbed some gum from her back blue jean pocket,
And blew a bubble so big that her Stetson brim popped it;
She had a kitty smile and a butterflies in her belly,
She was plucky and feisty, a ready to rock
And I laughed when I saw her, and almost got caught;
But she stared at the goat, her head in the game,
Energy focused on busting into fame;
She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,
And hopped on a Arabian, who bleated and je**ed,
And grabbing the mane on the little horses neck,
She wriggled and wrangled and held on like heck;
Then she sprang to the next goat, and the next after that,
Eight seconds apiece, and she never went splat.
And when she was done, I heard her voice yelling bright,
“HAPPY RODEO TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!”