Saturday, September 11, 2010

Their Only Son

Their Only Son

You’re a hell of a cow-man, you are! You, and your yaller shoes!
How would you look a-straddle of a Roman-nosed cayuse !
Where would you be in a round-up, or a mix with the
Greasers, say ?
Where is the boy I loved – the feller I sent away?
He had some style about him! He was a boy! All through !
But he went away to college – and the college has sent back you !
I should have brung you a go-cart, not a real hoss to ride !
I reckon you’re God’s rebuke for me totin’ too damn much pride.

For I was plumb proud of you- I grieved when you went away;
I couldn’t say half the things I had in my heart to say;
And-What is that thing you’re wearin’? A wrist watch! Holy cats!
And what are them white things on you? What is it you call ‘em, spats .
And why are your pants so tight? And why don’t they reach your shoes ?
Gee ! But you would play hell on the back of a wild cayuse !
And when your poor mother sees you-Climb onto your hoss and ride !
Don’t you see the town-folks lookin’ ? Come on an’ let’s get outside !
If we’d a-stayed there much longer someone would have
laughed, and then
I’d had to have started something I couldn’t undo again;
For you are my son-God help me! – and no one may laugh at you
And not have your father call him. This place we are comin’ to
Is where that there young school teacher was caught by that
Greaser band-
Oh, well, we won’t talk about that. I reckon you can’t understand
How a real he-man gets feelin’-Hold up! What is that ahead?
It’s the same band! Ridin’ for us! God! Look at ‘em ride and spread!
Your hoss hasn’t had no rider-he’s fresh as he started out!
Don’t ever take time to look when you get him turned about,
But ride him like hell to town, and get out the posse–quick.

Tell them to make the river and head off the band! I’ll stick.
My hoss couldn’t make the distance ahead of that rush no how-
And I never turned back on a Greaser! And I ain’t beginnin’ now!
When it’s safe and the fight is over, come back where I am, and by
The Greasers I’ve sent to hell you’ll see how a man can die.
Tell your mother I thought about her-And give him the spurs and ride!
Don’t you see them cut tin’ around us? Oh, God! With a he-man I’d
Go through ‘em like hell a-poppin’! Go on! Make your get-away!
What’s that you are sayin’ to me? Made up your mind to stay?
You have ? Shoot your hoss then! Shoot him! Here! Let me !
That’s the how!
That’s it, get down behind him! Now for my own hoss! Now!

What’s that you are handlin’ that way, and boldin’ so tight- my son?
That one of them automatics? I’ve beard of that kind of gun!
I wonder if you can use it-Hi-golly! You got that cuss !
I wish that your ma could see us! You bet she’d be proud of us!
I’m strong for the old six-gun, son-Sho! That went a little high!
I guess they have got your father-feels like a broken thigh-
You got that one’s hoss that time! And I got the rider – dead!
Say! We will go ridin’ bell-ward with half of that band ahead!
And if your poor ma could see us-You got ‘im! You got ‘im! She
When they have found us I reckon will be proud of her boy and me!
What’s that? We ain’t got ‘em running’? The posse! And just in time!
I reckon they’ll have to tote me; I ain’t in no shape to climb
On a hoss; but, son, ride by me, I’m proud of the way you done!
And your mother will be proud of you. The lord bas give us a son!
And if the spats you are wearin’ and the pants you have on suit you
I’m for ‘em! From bell to breakfast! And I’m for the wrist watch too !
And the boys that’s riding’ for us bas got to outfit like that,
With spats and skin-tight britches, and wrist-watch and dinky hat!

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