Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Out in the west we wear our hats,
for a lot of different reasons.
Some for work, and some for show,
but mostly we follow the seasons.
Jaunty and low, the brim just so
means he has some pride.
Straw in the summer, felt in the fall,
and he’s sure to catch a bride.
Those Montana boys like to wear ‘em wide,
and the Texans, high and mighty!
But the Colorado pokes have all the style,
And they wear 'em neat and tidy.
We Colorado gals can pick our men
not by his manly size,
not by the fit of his tight blue jeans,
but by the hat he wears over his eyes.
It never fails to fan our tails
when a tall one comes in sight
with his best boots on, his jeans all pressed,
and his hat pulled down, just right.
The man I met never showed his sweat,
his band was gleaming white.
A fancy scarf wrapped ‘round the crown
........with both eyes out of sight.
At the Valentine Dance he wore those pants
that fairly made me shy.
When he slowly looked up, to take me in,
it was to the side - with just one eye.
He winked, I blushed, he tipped his hat.
We danced to the cowboy band.
From that moment on, and for the rest of our lives
he held my heart in his hands.
-- Rusty Calhoun
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