Adios... ©1997, JD Evans Down in Texas, we don't like, to say good-by a lot, Never have enough good friends, like to keep the one's we've got. When one is leaving us for good, or just a little while at most, We don't say good-by to them, we just say adios.
To say good-by, somehow just seems, kinda permanent, And that's just not the word to use, if it's not what you meant. From the great Red River Valley, all the way down to Big Bend, Adios, to us just means, "see you later, Friend".
Had a friend once, moved away, went to Omaha, Said good-by, and sure enough, t'was the last I ever saw. Miss that friend, we had good times, 'cause we were really close, Wish I hadn't said good-by, wish I'd said adios.
Just today, I took a friend, and buried him out back, Wrapped him kinda gentle, in a real soft cotton sack. Now that old dog had been with me, for 'nigh on fifteen years, As I covered him with dirt, I was chokin' back some tears.
Just an ol' brown, worthless dog with kinda mangy hair, But whenever I was kinda down, he really seemed to care. Best friend I ever had I guess, and brother, that's no boast, And as I laid him down to rest, I just said .........Adios..
Charley's Tale ©1997, JD Evans
Charley was a trail-hand, who worked for the Broken T, And Charley had a problem, that no one else could see. As we were gettin' ready, for that last trail drive, In the shade was ninety-two, twenty more outside.
Laundry gal was finished, dropped our stuff off at the barn, Packed it up so we could leave, early in the morn. Charley was out ridin' fence, so Charley sorta missed her, Five hundred miles without that paddin', Charley got a blister.
Couldn't move to swat a fly, without breakin' out in sweat, Just to blink your eyes real fast, would leave you soakin' wet. Charley wished he hadn't got back, to the barn so late, 'Cause all the salt there in that sweat, began to irritate.
Now, long-johns surely ain't that thick, but most cowboys would rather, Have them help to pad the parts, of them that meet the leather. Charley didn't have a pair, to wear beneath his jeans, And jeans without no underwear..., 's not as funny as it seems.
No one had noticed Charley's legs, had them bows before, Probably did, but now it seemed, to be a whole lot more. Somebody noticed Charley, while he's roundin' up them cattle, Surely spent a lot of time, standin' in the saddle.
I think that we were five days out, when Charley caught the cook, Dropped his pants, bent over some, so he could take a look. He thought the cook would just put on, some soothing lard, or oil, Instead pulled out a pocket knife, said "got to lance that boil...".
Took three of us to hold him down, when cookie went to work, 'Cause he would scream, and thrash around, and yell, and moan and jerk. Worst part came when Cookie got, his jar of linament, Charlie went 'bout six feet up, like he was Heaven bent.
Charlie spent the next two days, ridin' in the wagon, Cookie sent him back to work, when he got tired of his naggin'. Told you folks a lotta stories, 'bout the cattle trails, Now you know why this one's called, simply, "Charley's Tale".
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Cowboy Like Me ©1996, JD Evans
So, you want to be a cowboy, and wear that big white hat, To walk the walk and talk the talk; you think that's where its at. But let me tell you neighbor, the problems that I see, That you should really think about, before you dress like me.
Now, take that big white hat, the one I talked about before, They're really kind of heavy, uncomfortable for sure, Be careful walking under things, use the middle of the door, And if you spin while dancin', it'll wind up on the floor.
And, oh that great big buckle, cowboys are so proud of, If you sit down, it's gonna' cut, your belly up above. So cowboys wind up standin', they lean on things a lot, We really don't like hurtin', that foolish we are not.
Them cowboy shirts are somethin', embroidered all around, I've seen 'em with a sunset, and cactus I have found. I've seen 'em with some roses, (we're sentimental fools), And brandin' irons and pistols, and other cowboy tools.
And now I see they're patterned, like indians out west, But I still like the plain ones, beneath a leather vest. Them fancy ones don't look so good, you're gonna say "Aw, shucks!", When you find out that cleanin' one, is gonna' cost ten bucks!
You like the boots, us cowboys wear, with stitchin' all around, Then hide 'em under skin tight jeans, that hang down to the ground. The tenderfoots will sometimes wear, those great big fancy spurs, But your love life's gonna' suffer, if they get tangled up with hers.
Take my advice, my Eastern friend, when you hear cowboy speakers, Don't say "Ya'll", (you sound real dumb), and stick to Nike sneakers. For if you've never spun a rope, rode a bronc out of a gate, If you don't live in Texas, you got here too darn late.
Pretty soon, you yankees, will fly out of our town, And talk about cowboys and hicks, in Texas that you found. You know, of course, there's gonna' be, a great big celebration, But if you wanna' come back down, first check with Immigration.