Whoopie Ti Yi Yo Get along little blogger

Dagnabbit. I missed Cowboy Poetry Week, the third week of this poetry month. Cowboy poetry is something I encountered years after my brief acquaintance with the genuine article cowboys on a dude ranch in Wyoming. Hearing them later, at a folk festival in the Cuyahoga valley was a breath of the long prairie coming to my hilly part of the world. Though there is much excellent poetry, charming doggerel and touching Hallmark moments in the huge gamut that is cowboy poetry as a genre, my favorite is still the poem that sets the bar, sets the mood, holds the banner for this kind of expression in the larger world:

Reincarnation
Wallace McRae

"What does Reincarnation mean?"
A cowpoke asked his friend.
His pal replied, "It happens when
Yer life has reached its end.
They comb yer hair, and warsh yer neck,
And clean yer fingernails,
And lay you in a padded box
Away from life's travails."

"The box and you goes in a hole,
That's been dug into the ground.
Reincarnation starts in when
Yore planted 'neath a mound.
Them clods melt down, just like yer box,
And you who is inside.
And then yore just beginnin' on
Yer transformation ride."

"In a while, the grass'll grow
Upon yer rendered mound.
Till some day on yer moldered grave
A lonely flower is found.
And say a hoss should wander by
And graze upon this flower
That once wuz you, but now's become
Yer vegetative bower."

"The posy that the hoss done ate
Up, with his other feed,
Makes bone, and fat, and muscle
Essential to the steed,
But some is left that he can't use
And so it passes through,
And finally lays upon the ground
This thing, that once wuz you."

"Then say, by chance, I wanders by
And sees this upon the ground,
And I ponders, and I wonders at,
This object that I found.
I thinks of reincarnation,
Of life and death, and such,
And come away concludin': 'Slim,
You ain't changed, all that much.'"