Happy Trails

Yippee yi yo ki yay. Good ol’ buckaroo Baxter Black, America’s cowboy poet, bought the farm, hit the sky, kicked the bucket the other day. You know what I’m saying…he died. 

I try to like poetry, but I gotta say it’s always been over my head. I’m more of a Trailer Park Boys kinda guy. But I liked Baxter’s stuff. There’s one called “Take Care Of Yer Friends.” Good advice in these times. It goes like this here:

Friend is a word that I don’t throw around
Though it’s used and abused
I still like the sound
I save it for people who’ve done right by me
And I know I can count on if ever need be

Baxter had a handlebar mustache the size of a mophead. Despite being born in Brooklyn, his poems were about cowpokes, feedlots, horse manure, and wide-open vistas. He kept a busy schedule, doing over 150 shows a year, and used to show up on Johnny Carson all the time. Yeah, the old ranch hand was a genuine American character. You hate to see originals like him go. Not a lot of ‘em left. But Baxter had a helluva time riding the range.

Hey, you know what? Have a fifth on the fourth and keep your dukes up.  

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oBxj21h4kDo

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