Scott and Ray were drifters.
Cowboys through and through.
They’d seen tough times, had lots of fun
And cows they really knew.

But cowboy life was waning,
And jobs were getting short.
So Scott and Ray took summer work
At Bar X Ranch Resort.

They hired on there as wranglers
Leading guests on mountain trails
Cleaning stalls, and feeding;
Fixing fence and stacking bales.

But one thing they didn’t count on
Was when the boss gave them advice.
He said’ “To keep your jobs here
You must learn to be nice.

You can’t smoke those roll-your-owns
Or drink or spit or chew.
And there will be no cursing
Which was most of what they knew.

So Scott and Ray felt out of place
Like flies on veal pâté
But they managed to be nice to guests --
At least ever other day.

And then a family arrived
From San Francisco Bay
There were Ruth, and Tim and Susan
And they were assigned to Scott and Ray.

They were a happy family
The parents seemed like one.
Except, Ruth and Sue were married
And 'Tim' was their son.

Scott and Ray were speechless.
They couldn’t understand.
They’d heard about such things, of course,
But not in Cowboy land.

It just ain’t right,” said Ray
To raise a boy like this.”
He won’t grow to be like us.”
He’ll be more like my sis.”

But Scott said he did recollect,
Although it was right sad,
His mom and sis had raised him
‘cause he didn’t have a dad.

“Your mom an sis weren’t married”
Said Ray in quick retort.
“They might as well rename this place
The Gay Bar Ranch Resort.”

But Ray,” said Scott, “You must admit”
It is quite plain to see.
I turned out to be okay,
So young Tim might be like me.”

Ray pondered this for just a while
Then said, with some resign.
“If you was raised by women
Then Tim here ‘might’ be just fine.”

“But just the same, if you don’t mind
I’d like to lead this ride.
And spend the week with Tim here.
You go on back inside.”


Note: Some guests complained to the ranch owners after I read this poem, so I guess it's not politically correct.
I was making fun of cowboys, but they thought I was making fun of gays, which just goes to show that even
great poetry like this can confuse people who are idiots.