Dan in curled horsehide hat and manure boots
bought me a beer one afternoon
in a bar off the stockyards in the west bottoms
Liked me first off for calling tails – me, no sore loser
“Don’t ask me?” he’d snap to other young ‘uns
“What do I know? Only roped here fifty years”
Hobbled off in a twit, whistled three times,
“ What a deal! What a deal! What a deal!”
Dan loaded cattle onto trucks in the last days
when the city still stunk of slaughter houses
A bowlegged, dusty guy living downtown
struck many a match on wooden gates
Don’t know much more about Dan
after the city plowed the bull pens flat
Just wag my head in a twit, whistle three times,
“What a deal! What a deal! What a deal!”