The Cowboy to His Friend in Need

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The Cowboy to His Friend in Need

You’re very well polished, I’m free to confess,

Well balanced, well rounded, a power for right;

But cool and collected⁠—no steel could be less;

You’re primed for continual fight.

Your voice is a bellicose bark of ill-will,

On hatred and choler you seem to have fed;

But when I control you, your temper is nil;

In fact, you’re most easily led.

Though lead is your diet and fight is your fun,

I simply can’t give you the jolt;

For I love you, you blessed old son-of-a-gun⁠—

You forty-five caliber Colt!