The Best Cowboys Ain’t Always Human
A true story of one man’s
journey through the Depression.
By Gary McMahan, © 1996
During the depths of the Depression,
When America drew shallow breaths,
Bob had to find him a way
To keep from starving to death.
Bob was by profession a cowboy,
But there weren’t no work out there
But there was always something goin’ on—
A church picnic or county fair.
Now times was tight and money was scarce
As the economy reeled and thrashed
Folks were tighter than a bull’s butt at flytime
When it come to shuckin’ out cash.
But the country folk always had
A nickel or two in their bibs.
Though they wouldn’t spend it on themselves,
They’d spend it on their kids.
It was then the idea struck him
That a simple little machine
And a couple, three Shetland ponies
Might put some jingle in his jeans.
Now the idea of a pony ring
Galled his cowboy insides
But a hungry man’ll swallow most anything
including his cowboy pride.
The easiest part was finding the ponies—
Every ranch had one or two.
And they were glad to be rid of ’em, too
’Cause they were ornery little dudes.
Underneath all the hair and cute
Were defiant eyes that glared like a sniper
like what you’d get if you crossed
a teddy bear with a pit viper
Now ol’ Bob had ridden his share of colts,
But his logic wasn’t watertight.
He figured if he could break big horses
He could sure break little ones . . . Right??
But Bob was too tall and top-heavy;
He needed to be the size of a kid.
When he straddled a pony, his lanky ol’ frame
Looked like runnin’ gears on a katydid.
He got bit, kicked, and climbed,
Knocked down, run over, and struck.
They’d trot real fast then slam on the brakes
And plant his face in the muck.
They’d paw the pockets off’n his clothes
Squealin’ like wild beasts
Or take off fast as scared jackrabbits
And dump ‘ol Bob on his keister.
He finally got six head gentled—
Though physically they had him in ruins—
And limped down the road with his pony ring
To the little podunk doin’s.
But Bob made more than a few kids happy
For some it was their first crack
at the feel and the smell and the wonderful view
of the world from a horses back.
But still he was barely squeakin’ by
As one or two kids rode round and round
In yet another dusty parking lot
In some little dryland town.
About this time he was working a circus
That was traveling through the state,
When a circus man happened to mention
They were lookin’ to get rid of an ape.
Bob perked up at the sight of that ape.
Why, he’d draw folks in like flies!
And while they were there, he knew the kids
Would hound their folks for pony rides.
He wasn’t a gorilla, and he wasn’t a baboon—
Bigger than a monkey, about 65 pounds.
No one was ever sure what he was,
But his knuckles come near draggin’ the ground.
Bob tied his leash to the saddle horn
And showed him how to sit a horse.
He sat right up and clung to that saddle
Like . . . well, like a monkey, of course.
It worked like X-lax and chili;
Word spread like a smashed spider.
People flocked to see the ape ride a horse,
And ’fore you knew, all six ponies had a rider.
At every show, it never failed,
Some kids that had been ridin’
Would fall in love with one of those ponies
And beg Grandpa into tryin’ to buy him.
Gramps’d offer Bob cash for the pony,
And it killed Bob to tell him to scram.
But the thought of breakin’another horse to replace it
Would give ol’ Bob the whim-whams.
He was ponderin’ his dilemma one day
When he noticed the pony the ape was ridin’
Turned around and bit the ape.
Well, it made the ape mad, and things got excitin’.
The ape’s legs shot under that horse’s belly,
Much to Bob’s delight,
And clasped those hand-like feet together,
Like a handshake, and held on tight.
One long, hairy arm grabbed him up by the nostrils
While the other yanked on his tail.
The horse bucked and reared kicked and squealed,
But the ape sat fixed as a driven nail.
It hit Bob like a sack of horseshoes
And launched him out of his fluster.
That ape could ride like he was part of their hide—
Here was his bronco buster!
So he picked up another un-broke pony
To test his theory in reality
And within a week the ape had him ready
To take his place in society.
That ape would run their length on top
Then swing underneath from limb to limb.
He was all over ’em like a bad case of ugly,
Usin’ them ponies like a jungle gym.
When he got done with them horses,
They were ravaged, weary, and disheveled.
And those children looked like angels come down from heaven
To rescue them from the devil.
Bob sold a bunch of ponies after that,
And not one he sold ever came back.
’Cause they all had a new perspective on life
After their "ape attack."
Bob ’n’ that ape became best of friends,
An unlikely couple of chaps.
Bob give the ape an old cowboy hat
And made him a pair of chaps.
And a lot of spoiled ponies that ape trained
That probably would’a gone to slaughter
Wound up in good homes. Bob made some money,
And things turned out like they oughter.
In the end, Bob quit the pony ring biz
(‘Cause it weren’t exactly his passion),
But it got him through the Depression
In an honest and upright fashion.
And he went back to cowboyin’
But they was a new trick under his cape,
Cause when they’d ask Bob to start some colts,
He’d just smile . . . then he’d go get his ape!
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