Down Here at the Root'n Toot'n Malufau Ranch we gringos (plus Ammon) have had a boot scoot'n time filling up at the hoe-down:
It doesn't take much to have a twine- twirler of a cowboy dinner at our chuckwagon-
We decided to be ridin' flank, and forgot about the table for eat'n our fixin's on,
So we all threw on some plaid, cinched-up our chaps, and ate cowboy style on the floor:
And Y'All should forget the fancy china, since everything taste better on silver pie plates and mason jars anyways.
Slop a little gravy on yer taters and fri-eed chicken, and call it grub.
And after the grub is gone,
We here lassoed in the wee buckarooss, and were fixin' to have a wild-rag pie eating contest.
These little bucks, all in their headbands, sure had themselves a boot-scoot'n time,
Especially when Cowboy Amm cinched up his chinks, and dove in, face first.
Celebratory kisses were allowed at this here hoe-down.
And this little cookie duster gave a little yee-haw shout out as the winner of this here challenge.
We have to say it was a twine twirler of a draw:
These buckaroos may have a hard time adjusting to life away from the ranch; where kitchen tables, silverware, and napkins are required.
Peace Out Y'All.
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