~ Another Fine Meal…

Go to Massachusetts for its chowder
In Maryland you’ll find tasty crab cakes
Texas has their famous beef brisket rub
KC says it’s good BBQ they make

Head to Maine to dine on some lobster
Florida’s Coconut Shrimp is best
Montana cooks some fine mountain oysters
Colorado’s lambchops top off the west

Eat some deep-fried pickles in Arkansas
or California’s avocado toast
Crisp Fries with vinegar in Delaware
Y’all, it’s them boiled peanuts that Georgia boasts

Hot pork tenderloins of Indiana
Hawaiian shaved ice, Beignets of La,
Wyoming’s Fry bread, Illinois’ Deep Dish,
Michigan Pasty, Cheesesteak from Pa

You can travel around America
even a few countries across the sea
Anything you’ll find has yet to compare
to my wife’s fried chicken and mac-n-cheese


~ Helena, Montana…

You’re torn between two identities
Never knowing which way you should go
You dream of being a big city
but you’re afraid to let yourself grow

There’s some folks who want to be country
other folks want a fancier life
Live their life free out on the prairie
yet spend nights with the family and wife

They want cooking like taters and meat
but they need it froo-frooed up a bit
When they’re ready to sit down and eat
They’ll need a bunch of garnish with it

All the hipsters ride their bicycles
drink their micro brewed beer in the bars
Cowboys eat pig’s feet that’s been pickled
but drive over price pickups and cars

Ride a hundred miles to Missoula
to go to them chain restaurants and shops
If they open up in Helena
they won’t go ‘cause it ain’t Mom and Pop’s

If a far off place you want to jet
you know it’s really quite an affair
You must take a plane so you can get
to an airport that can take you there

Lest you have watched fifty winter’s melt
Well you’re still just a foreigner then
Though people that come from somewhere else
numbers ’bout nine out of every ten

Time for winter after just two weeks
of cold springs, hot summers and cold fall
With dry grass valleys, snow covered peaks
creeks that flood or no water at all

No use to keep whining or crying
I know my home is where my heart sits
There just ain’t no way of denying
that Helena, Montana is it

~ BLT on White…

For lunch today my wife said
husband, why don’t we eat out
I said, honey in these Covid times
that’s not what I’m about

You just sit back and rest your feet
And let me worry about our lunch
I have the perfect meal in mind
Your sure to love it, that’s my hunch

So I pulled a pound of bacon from the fridge
Slapped it onto my heated griddle
As soon as it hit the pan it started splattering
I did a little dance to the sound of the sizzle

I took a fresh from the garden tomato
sliced it thick (the perfect way)
Toasted two slices of home-baked bread
And covered them with mayonnaise

Added just a shake of salt to it
Topped that with a crisp lettuce leaf
Four slices of brown (but not crunchy) bacon
Makes a sandwich that goes beyond belief

Once it was all stacked together
I sliced it at an angle from bottom to top
Add some BBQ Lays potato chips
and a glass of ice-cold soda pop

If you’ve never had one before
there’s nothing better to satisfy your taste
Fix up a good ole classic BLT sandwich
Trust me, there’ll be nothing left to waste

Some say the best part of it all
and I agree with them I must say
Your house will smell all baconey
for the rest of the day


~ Nighthawk…

A sliver of October moon
sinks slow into the western night
and the life of a billion stars
begin to fade beyond my sight

The black curtain of night dissolves
as colors flare the eastern sky
The glorious hues of morning
proudly herald a new sunrise

Heaven’s light spreads o’er the valley
telling all the world to arise
Bright autumn leaves upon the trees
mimic the grandeur of the sky

Sunflowers turn their golden heads
to the promise of what’s to come
A melody from wings on high
sing a joyous praise to the sun

I get a little misty eyed
as other cowboy start to come
Can’t help but feel a little sad
that this night-herders job is done

~ John…

Well John was brand new to the Rockin’ Bar J
Down in Missouri’s where he’d spent his young days

His white cowboy hat with the fancy gold band
with fringe on his chaps and kid gloves on his hands

Had snake skin cowboy boots that shone like wet grass
He smelled like a spring flower when’er he walked past

They said he was some nephew of the boss man
came out here to learn how to be a ranch hand

We geared up Devil, that horse hadn’t been rid
and called over John and said “he’s yours now kid”

John said he knew horses he’d used them to plow
but this one seemed a little meaner somehow

Well I eared that stallion while John held the reigns
put his foot in the stirrup and grabbed his mane

He pulled himself right up and sat on the throne
lasted bout a second before he was thrown

Well they say no man’s lived without facing fear
and no flower will grow when watered with tears

Instead of a crying and heading for home
John got right back up and remounted that roan

Now that horse went to whirling like all get out
John held fast to the horn and let out a shout

It was looking like that boy might win the day
When that horse spun and threw him to next Tuesday

Well John never turned into no cowboy hand
Went back to Missouri and plowing the land

There’s one thing we learned that we never did plan
How the clothes that you wear do not make the man