Friday, 16 October 2015

Poetry for Cowboys (No not dodgy builders, but the folk on horses)

Yes we all know every western ended 
with them riding into the sunset

Anyone who is old and Knackered, or so I have been told by old and Knackered folk will remember Sunday Afternoons in the old days when there was little to do except watch an old Western on the tele which ninety percent of the time was in Black and White. And although no one knew it at the time was almost certainly Politically Incorrect. I do wonder sometimes if the modern trend towards an obsession to political correctness is hiding some dark paranoia that society would rather not confront and so to avoid it, all references are hidden away and society can pretend all is well.

Still I am drifting from the point of those Lazy Sunday Afternoons from the past. So in order to rekindle the old lost memories of those old Knackered folk I have written a little poem about one of those westerns. . . (well when I say one, I mean one-ish).

Everyone loves watching a film on a lazy Sunday Afternoon

Like that classic old one with John Wayne and Ginger Rogers which I think is called High Noon

Where Professor Frankenstein makes a monster and goes completely loony and Insane

After listening to Gene Kelly dancing and Singing in the Rain

And Michael Caine peers down at Gary Cooper lying on the Ground

And says Well are you feeling Lucky Punk and Gary Cooper hesitates a bit, but makes no Sound

While Martian Alien Machines invade the OK Corral chasing an unnamed man with a Fistful of Dollars

But then they (the Martians) all fall and die, a result of the germs from several cowboys grubby Collars

But I really like the bit at the end where The Lone Ranger looks up into the Sky

And says is it a bird, is it a plane. . .NO. . . it’s a man with the head of a FLY??????

And Tonto says Surely that’s a Job for Spiderman. . .  I thought we were looking for a Tinker, a Tailor and Karla the Russian Spy.

And the Deadwood stagecoach vanishes into the sunset
And everyone waves the hero

A fond Goodbye.


  1. Ooh, it's like a poetry mash-up.

    1. I remember Mash. it had that Hawkeye in it long before he became a piece of techy tennis equipment. I dont remember seeing any cowboys though.