Silver Spurs Cowgirl

Copyright 1998, Guy Smith, All Rights Reserved

I saw you at the Silver Spurs, rodeo
Standin’ by the barrel ridin’ coral
Your mane flowing in the summer wind
And my ol’ heart started beatin’ wild

Why don’t you tell me about you Palomino
And I give you a ride in my pick-up truck
I’ll take you to my favorite honky tonk
And let Budweiser improve my luck

So waltz me across the Smokey dance floor
For another round I’ll go deeper in debt
In the hopes that you’ll love me like I want you to
And that you’ll ride me hard and put me up wet

I’ll listen to your stories and your troubles
And look longingly into your eyes
Try to memorize their color
While thinking only of your thighs

Let me drive you home tonight
I’ll haul your saddle out to the shed
And pray you invite me in for another long neck
And later invite me into your bed

And you’ll tell me you never do this with other men
And I’ll tell you that you’ll have my respect
And we’ll fall asleep in each other’s trust
After I ride you hard and put you up wet

You’ve lassoed my heart you wicked cowgirl
You’ve taken my soul for a bronco ride
I’m chomping on your bit and straining to the reins
While you twist my spine and brand my mind

But I know your eyes will soon wonder
And your boots will walk out my door
And I’ll waste my nights with ol’ Jack Daniel’s
And I’ll be wanting you even more

So let’s just forget about it darlin’
A future I’ll know I’ll soon regret
Cause I’ve been down this road before
You’ll ride me hard and then forget

The story: Oh my. A story of redneck romance.

I was back in my home stomping grounds a while back, and decided to drop in on my favorite annual ritual – the Silver Spurs Rodeo. I had a great day. Watched some really stupid cowboys get beat up by angry pot roast on the hoof. I think I ate my weight in BBQ ribs. I decided to leave, and took a short cut past the barrel rider’s corral.

And I saw this woman …

To use an antique bit of southern slang, I was twiterpated. She was tan, that way that only Southern girls get. Her hair drifted in the breeze. Her body was lean and muscled, indicating a gal who spent more time in the saddle than any decent girl should. And I suspect those Wranglers were actually painted on.

Then I saw her t-shirt. It had a photo of the derrières of two ranch hands, and a caption that read “Cowboy butts drive me nuts!”

I thought “Now here’s a young lady I should introduce myself to.”

So, I walked toward her with the confidence that only a complete fool possesses. I introduced myself. She looked me up and down once, very slowly. She looked into my eyes. She smiled a sweet, sweet smile. And she said . . .

“Get away from me, redneck.”

So I picked my testicles up off the ground, stuffed them in my shirt pocket, climbed up into my pickup truck, and headed home. And on the way home I thought about my Silver Spurs Cowgirl, and the other redneck women who have run roughshod over my life, and composed this tune in my head.

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