Thursday, February 5, 2009

A Comboy Poem - The New Truck

This is a poem I wrote a few years ago. I was reading some Cowboy Poetry and thought it would be fun to write. So, I sat down and wrote two. This is the first one. I'll post the second tomorrow or so.



THE NEW TRUCK
By Dee L. Martin

There was a rule in our family you’d better not buck.
It was, Daddy would cuff you if you got near his truck.
Yes sir, Dad was proud of that brand new Dodge.
If it wasn’t drivin’, it was parked in the garage.

It was shinny and new and without scratch or dent.
And Daddy would lecture us on the money he'd spent.
There’s no doubt to us, it was his joy and pride,
And it wasn’t too often we got to ride inside.

But one summer day, we weren’t going far.
We all jumped in the truck, cuz Mom had the car.
We headed for Stump Creek to pull a cow from the mire.
We just crossed the creek when we heard the pop of a tire.

Daddy cut loose a colorful word, maybe three,
And pulled the truck over by a big poplar tree.
We all jumped out to look at the blankety, blank flat,
Then Daddy hit his knee with his dusty cowboy hat.

He kicked the tire then looked at Emmy and me
And told us to go sit in the shade of the tree.
We sat and watched while Dad fixed the tire.
We could tell from his face, he was still hot on fire.

Well, maybe it was Emily or it could have been me,
Or maybe it was Dad, there was only us three.
It is hard to remember thinking back that far,
But it was one of us who left that truck door ajar.

It was one of those rare things, just who’d a thunk,
That through that open door would waltz a skunk.
And Dad soon discovered when he reached for his hat,
That his brand new truck was full of pole cat.

It don’t take a genius or a very big thinker
To figure out Dad was gonna get that stinker.
But there was a problem in solving this puzzle,
With Dad and the skunk standing nose to muzzle.

Dad slammed the door and then jumped back,
Cursing his luck - the gun was in the rack.
Emmy and me, we were enjoying the fun.
Watching Daddy trying to retrieve his gun.

He tried the other door without much luck.
It wasn’t looking good for Daddy’s new truck.
Daddy was fummin’ and so was that critter.
It was looking hopeless, but Dad was no quitter.

He kicked at the dirt and let go a shout.
"If I can’t shoot you, then I’ll smoke you out!"
He grabbed a bucket and hose and our hearts sank.
Dad was sucking gas from out of the tank.

He started a fire with the gas and some old clothes
And I reckon he just plain forgot the siphon hose.
It was sill in the tank, pumpin’ out gas.
The fuel was heading for the fire real fast.

I gave a yell and Emmy started to cry.
Dad dove for cover as the truck blew sky high.
We all sat there staring, amazed at our luck.
That no one had died when Dad blew the truck.

Losing the truck was bad, but what really stunk
Was out of the smoke came a waddling that skunk.

No comments: