Cowboys did you know your hats are dusty, why does your pick-up smell so musty?
You spit that tobacco all over the floor, why don't you just step on out the door?
Your boots are worn and cracked in places, why are there lines upon your faces?
You track in dung and mud galore, talk about cows until you're a bore.
Why are your legs bowed and lank, do you really have any money in the bank?
Your spurs jangle, make too much noise, why don't you act like men instead of boys?
Why do you exaggerate about the size of your herd, when you could be honest with your word.
How did you get that ranch you own, do you tell how much you owe on the loan?
Your buckle is large and name belt proud, tone down your voice and don't speak so loud.
A round imprint in the back of your jeans, you need new clothes or so it seems.
If cows go to heaven you'll be alright, if God wears boots won't that be a sight?
Just give me the answers and I'll know why, cowboys will be cowboys until they die.
Pauline Lieck P.S. I really do like cowboys, this is just in fun.