O, cowboy from southern Missouri,
It's so unmistakably queer,
I admit that it does make me worry
That he lives with his seat on his steer.

I watch as he trots 'cross the prairie,
And wonder if it hurts his rear,
As he plods off so rotely, not even remotely
Detached from that old shaggy steer.

He does all his herdin' and ropin'
And shouts, "Giddyup!" loud and clear,
Churning large motes of sand as he clops 'cross the land
Almost if superglued to that steer.

He does all his livin' and lovin'
And guzzles down bottles of beer
Ridin' off in a daze, lookin' really amazed
As he sways back and forth on his steer.

He does all his wishin' and dreamin',
And holds all his memories near
As he spurs that old beast, ridin' off to to the east
With a snort and a huff from his steer.

I saw him dismount once at bathtime;
He dried off and dressed with great cheer,
Then took out his saddle and once again straddled
That far-ridden, flea-bitten steer.