Texas
Texas.
Texas was for me a magic word, to be a cowboy, herd cattle
and in the evening, ride into town and sort out the baddies.
Mind I wanted to be a sheriff, but first I had to learn, how to
use a lasso. I jumped my ship in Houston, took a bus inland.
As light fell I saw a big ranch the bus stopped and let me off.
I knocked on a door told the rancher I wanted to be a cowboy.
He gave me t. bone steak and let me sleep in the bunk house.
At dawn the sheriff was there to take me back to Houston.
He wore Stetson and let me wear it till we reached the docks
and I had to go onboard, to cook lunch for the hungry crew.
When asked where I had been, I said I had visited my uncle
who has a ranch at a place called Panhandle.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
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