Poem by Earl Alonzo Brininstool

The Cowgirl

She ain't inclined to'rds lots o' things
That eastern gals can do up brown;
She don't wear jewelry and rings,
Like them swell girls what lives in town;
Her cheeks are tanned an olive tint,
That shows the roses hidin' there;
Her eyes are brown, and there's a hint
Of midnight in her wavin' hair.
She don't go in for fancy hats;
A wide-brimmed Stetson is her pet;
She has no use for puffs and rats;
A harem skirt would make her fret.
She wears a kerchief 'round her neck'
At breaking broncs she shows her sand,
And at a round-up she's on deck,
And twirls a rope with a practiced hand.
She doesn't know a thing about
Them motor cards that buzz and whirr,
But when she goes a-ridin' out,
A tough cow-pony pleases her,
Her hands are tanned to match her cheeks;
Her smile will start your heart a-whirl,
And when she looks at you and speaks,
You love this rosy, wild cowgirl!
She never saw a tennis court;
She don't belong to any club,
But she is keen to all range sport,
And she's a peach at cookin' grub!
She couldn't win at playin' whist'
She wouldn't think that bridge was fun,
But say, the hombre doesn't exist
That beats her handlin' a six-gun!
I don't believe she'd make a hit
At them swell afternoon affairs;
She wouldn't feel at home a bit;
Them ain't the things for which she cares.
She ain't so keen as some gals is
At tryin' stunts that's new and strange,
But you can bet she knows her biz
When she's out on the cattle range!

1. Frederic Remington
2. Cattle Land's Farewell
3. Back to the Range
4. The Bunkhouse Boys
5. The Grub-Pile Call

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