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Roses Are Red

Roses are red, ‘ceptin’ in
Texas where they’s yeller.
I’d be plum obliged to
be yer feller.

I’d be so proud to live
and to age
with the prettiest bloom
ever seen on the sage

The day we met it was round
up time in my heart,
and if’n I could corral you at the
homestead we’d never part.

I’d promise to love, trust, honor
and obey,
and from my little
cowgirl I’d never stray.

By your side I’d stay both night
and day,
and promise to love you the cowboy way.

© Bobby Cohoon

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My gal and I
Personify
    Togetherness in life
We care, we jest
We share the best
    And — sure — a touch of strife

It’s never wise
To compromise
    The truths we’ve come to know
But, we learned this
We’d better kiss
    And let the quarrel go

To realize
Those flashing eyes
    Are planning an attack
My plan is this
I’ll try a kiss
    And hope she’ll kiss me back

We’ve thought it through
We know it’s true
    Our differences are there
Should we debate?
Or osculate?
    When angry tempers flare

It seems to me
Undoubtedly
    We’re kissing all the time
It helps prevent
An argument
    So what . . . is that a crime?

Cowboys are rough
And tough enough
    We take hard times in stride
For my morale
I kiss my gal
    Until she’s pacified

When we’re entwined
Our lips we find
    Keep one another quiet
For when we’re mute
We can’t dispute
    It works — you ought to try it !

© 2001 Omar West

 

*************************************

 

To Her

Cut loose a hundred rivers,
     Roaring across my trail,
Swift as the lightning quivers,
     Loud as a mountain gale.
I build me a boat of slivers;
     I weave me a sail of fur,
And ducks may founder and die
     But I
  Cross that river to her!

 

Bunch the deserts together,
     Hang three suns in the vault;
Scorch the lizards to leather,
     Strangle the springs with salt.
I fly with a buzzard feather,
     I dig me wells with a spur,
And snakes may famish and fry
     But I
Cross that desert to her!

 

 

Murder my sleep with revel;
     Make me ride through the bogs
Knee to knee with the devil,
     Just ahead of the dogs.
I harrow the Bad Lands level,
     I teach the tiger to purr,
For saints may wallow and lie
     But I
Go clean-hearted to her!

Badger Clark