Sorry ropers eventually fade away

By Baxter Black

If yer a sorry roper, friend, let me commiserate
And pass along some wisdom that may help to set you straight.

The reason that yer just no good and why you’ve never won
Is … You’ve got the false impression that ropin’ should be fun!

Don’t kid yourself. It’s just like golf. We’re talkin’ sacrifice!
To rope and win consistently you have to pay the price.

Eliminate the little things that busy up yer life,
Those bothersome distractions like house payments and a wife.

Quit yer job! Forsake the kids! Sell everything you own
And buy a dually gooseneck so you’ll never be alone.

Then enter every jackpot where the fools’ll take yer check
And practice ‘til yer ropin’ dummy’s got a crooked neck!

Survive on beer and road food. Never falter, never fail
’Cause fingers will grow back, ya know, just like a lizard’s tail.

Keep ropin’ ‘til yer spoken word degenerates to grunts
Or simply, “I’m a heela … but sometimes I wope the fwonts.”

And maybe you might beat the odds but be prepared because
Each dally man will have to face the roper’s mentalpause.

Eventually the time will come when nothin’ reconciles.
You’ll be burnt out from front to back with cavities and piles,

Yer rope won’t reach out like it did, yer loop just won’t quite fit.
You can’t remember if yer can is filled with beer or spit!

There’s only one place left to go, to change your sad condition,
Find yourself a catchy phrase and become a horse clinician!

Baxter Black is a self-described cowboy poet, ex-veterinarian and sorry team roper. He can be contacted at 1-800-654-2550 or by e-mail at:
headcowboy@baxterblack.com