Buy way of introduction,and to you who have been here long enough to remember the Johnny's Feed Store Liars Club stuff. Johnny's Feed Store is a real place. If you are travling near here on Hiway 54, turn west at the La Luz light, and go until you think you have to be lost. It's one more mile to Johnny's, on your right. Rawhide, Hooker Ben, Elmer Dunn, and others are real people. Rawhide is somewhere over 80. He sold all his cows a few years ago, and raises throughbred, and miniture horses now. Still works about 12 hours a day. Briar Crick is not real, but the landscape would support it well. Most of the Johnny's Feed Store Liars Club stuff I've posted here is a real story told by the person to whom I've given credit. Even Dr. Freddie Gorringe. Sam Garbone is no different.
It sure ‘nuff was Wednesday
An’ Johnny’s called to me,
I saddled up the Yamaha
An’ went on down to see
Who would make the show tonite
An’ who would not be there,
But everyone I knowed real well
Wuz standin’ in the square.
There wuz one new feller
I didn’t know by sight
But if he is here at Johnny’s
He’s got to be awright
I got howdy’d an’ got shook
With all the hands I knowed
An’ it seemed that by the number one
Wuz all our outfit growed.
The chairs wuz in a arc
‘Bout the stove so cold
An’ the nail keg with it’s cushion
‘Twas in the middle bold.
Rawhide, without preamble
Sat upon the keg
An’ he allowed he had some yarns
An’ we wouldn’t have to beg.
So’s he tells of us his kidhood
An’ all the things he done
From fallin’ off the barn top
Firein’ off his father’s gun
From ridin’ on a holstien
An’ a landin’ in the poop
An’ unloadin’ a truck of taters
With a pitchfork an’ a scoop.
Then Hooker Ben he took the stage
An’ regaled us with his yarns
Of bein’ a button of a cowboy
In Arizona range and barns
An’ how he busted horses
Afore he made it to ten years
An’ how he broke his backside
An’ got spur marks on his ears.
I took my turn and tol’ ‘em
Of my days in rodeo
An’ how no bull wuz big enuff
To make me tell ‘em “no”
An’ how I run my Mexi place
An’ all the things I’ve did
Since I left Nevada,
When I wuz just a kid
Well, then this feller, he steps up
His name is Sam Garbone
He come to us from somewhere
Where he growed up all alone
An’ he rode in rodeos so big
That they lasted for ten days
An’ he’s cowboyed, and wrangled
Cross the llano, many ways
But his last job, it wuz a doozy
Took the toughest kind of guy
To do his job, an’ daily grind
An’ keep breathin’ an’ not die.
“If you boys want some ‘citment
An’ adrenalin’s yur salve
Then grizzly bear proctologist
Is the job ya gotta have”
Edited 2 time(s). Last edit at 11/01/2022 09:59AM by Merc.
Bewdy, Merc!
If they have a moderator at the JFSLC, he could say about Sam's last job "Waal, it's better'n proof readin' the tellfun d'rectry."
You've given me a big smile for today. And a new word "kidhood".
Ian
Edited 3 time(s). Last edit at 10/31/2008 08:05PM by IanAKB.
Enjoyed it through and through. Great story and poem, Terry.
Marty
Terry:
A great tale well-told....as usual. Always enjoyable.
Joe
Wonderful poem.
we all need our own local feed store. you've just shown us why.