The Cowboy's Cowboy

 In 2014, my granddaughter, Natalie, had an assignment to write a poem related to "the Wild West" since her class was planning a field trip to Booth Western Art Museum in Cartersville, GA. Teachers from around the region would choose a few of the best poems from their students to enter in a contest. The winners from each school would read their poems at the museum on the day of the proposed field trip. 

Natalie had not previously written poetry and mentioned her anxiety over the assignment to me. When my grandchildren were in public school, I had made it a habit to read whatever literature they were assigned to read and keep up with their school progress in other ways, so one day I sat down to think about what could be written related to "the Wild West." I had in mind sending her a few ideas to help her get started.

I wrote a very rough first-draft light-verse poem about "'ol Hank." A couple of days before Natalie's poem was due, she told me she had not come up with anything, so I sent her that rough draft as a starting point to help her get started writing. That was probably not as good an idea as it sounded to us at the time. Instead of igniting a new idea in her, it seemed to confine her to just adapting the poem I had started. Deadline came too quickly, and she just turned in the poem that we had more-or-less cowritten. Of course, it won!

She was now locked into reading it aloud at the district Western Art assembly. It has bothered both of us ever since. She felt like she had cheated by turning in a poem she saw as mostly mine. I felt guilty because she felt like I helped her cheat and because she didn't see the final poem as truly hers. I also felt bad that I had apparently caused her to doubt her own ability and integrity. This incident became an embarrassment to both of us over the years, and the poem was mostly forgotten/unmentioned/hidden. 

I recently found an old copy. At this point neither of us is sure how much either of us had to do with this version or even it this is the final copy that was entered in the contest. Neither of us has felt comfortable claiming authorship. But I think it's a cute poem, so here is the, I guess, cowritten poem about 'ol Hank. 

Ol’ Hank was a cowboy’s cowboy –

That feller knew how to live.

Any case that came along,

Hank had advice to give.

 

Now, he warn’t no shoddy blowhard;

He didn’t talk no bosh.

But when he’d meet a greenhorn,

He’d fill their ears, by gosh!

 

“Hey, Dude!  Hey, City Slicker,”

Ol’ Hank was known to shout.

“You’re all hat and no cattle -

That’s not what cowboyin’s all about!

 

Now, being a real true cowboy

Takes a bigger man than you.

If you don’t wanna get your plow cleaned,

Here’s what you gotta do.

 

Don’t never squat with your spurs on.

Don’t drive black cattle when it’s dark outside.

Don’t dig for water near the outhouse;

Don’t get in the saddle ‘less you’re ready to ride.”

2014 by Natalie Davis (Akins) (with Joan Turrentine)