The End.
Those Big Death Scenes in Westerns
The slinger slung his monstrous gun
out of its well-oiled holster—
she tried to dart from the couch and run,
but he shot her through the bolster.
She tried to duck his second shot
and they got into a tussle—
it didn’t help her cause a lot:
he shot her in the bustle.
She staggered around; began to totter;
still the gunslinger came
relentlessly on and at last he got her—
right in the final frame.
Even though a cowboy’s socks can pretty much stand up on their own . . .
Something’s Afoot at the Fort
A Texas Ranger lost his boot
And all of us can feel
His pain at losing shaft and spur
And being down-at-heel
Without the custom stitching and
Tooled silver on the toe,
The steel shank inset and the vamp—
Where is a man to go
To get re-shod so perfectly
In style with stuff that wears
Like his cast-iron skillet, by
A boot-maker who cares
As deeply as the Ranger does
For quality and class?
I only hope the Ranger knows
That this pain, too, shall pass,
For down the street the Ponder shop
Has crocodile skin
And hand-tooled leather of all kinds
To tuck his tired hooves in,
And like a human’s farrier,
Will shoe him with perfection
In custom boots as soon as he
Gallops in that direction,
So go on, Texas Ranger, sir,
Get in and order boots
To save your poor hooves from their loss
In any style that suits,
From ostrich up to diamondback,
From white to black as soot,
And classy as a Cadillac
You wear upon your foot
Nothing can compare to the perfect boot . . .
Art-Colored Glasses 
I have been in the desert and needed to come quench my thirst, sweet Kathryn. And as well as the thirst quenching, I got a laugh. Now, I shall go shed a tear for that dear, departed bustle. Well done!
I guess Miss Pauline’s perils finally caught up with her ’cause she didn’t bustle out of the line of fire fast enough!
The first was fun to read and the second is so true about a cowboy and his boots (modern ones, at least). Good ones!
I’ve still never owned such a pair of boots myself, but I’ve at least had the privilege of exploring the real-life Ponder Boot Co. store, which is inspiring to say the least!
Such a fun post, Kathryn. The poor dear. Neither bolster nor bustle could protect her from that gunslinger. He was obviously cut from a different cloth than was the favorite gunslinger of my boyhood, Yosemite Sam. As for the boots, well, to each his own. 🙂
Say, have you ever considered growing out that dashing ‘stache in your Gravatar image for a Yosemite Sam one??? Oh, it’d probably be too inhibiting of the proper eating of good saucy pastas! Not worth the risk.
My only boots at present are a pair that look like a hybrid of combat boots and wing tips (!) that I bought in the snow of Sweden and used for years after in Edmonton’s minus-40s whiteouts, and a second pair, of silly polka-dotted gumboots for gardening wear. Very stylish, I am.
Oh, Kathryn. I must come clean. My ‘stache and I parted company last July. It’s only the 3rd time since high school graduation that I’ve done so but this time it’s for keeps. Better to do it now before someone confuses me with Wilford Brimley. I guess it’s time to update the avatar.
ahhhh the perfect boots!
Veteran skier *and* gardener that you are, you *really* know what good boots mean! 🙂
🙂
A lovely read!
🙂 Mandy
😀
xoxo
Shot in the bustle – doesn’t bear thinking about 🙂
Such a tragedy. Sometimes it *is* best to let the mind wander in a different direction, if only out of a sense of delicacy. 😉
Cowboys can be pretty partial to their hats, 2. Tee! Hee! to your clever poetry, very happy…
Head to toe, a cowboy needs his trusty gear to do the job right!
What fun, Kathryn! You are so versatile.
I have to give Western subjects their due occasionally, since moving to Texas! 😉