I took my Yearlings
To the feed lot today.
And I wrote a new poem,
Thanks to the boss, Robert J.

He liked my rhyme
"Bout a cowboys truck,
'Cause at workin' with cowboys,
He's had lots a luck.

He said "Cowboys ?..God loves them,
And I do too.
But their book keepin' and memos,
Need replaced,
Somethin' new".

They keep books an' memos on the bottom,
Of a box of snuff.
Readin' and understandin'
Sometimes gets tuff.

The real problem
He says it seems
Is the last time that snuff box
Comes out'a them jeans.

They toss it
without givin' a thought
To the sufferin'
All them lost memos have brought.

But the'll saddle their hoss
To go pick it up.
Out there in the feed lot
Amongst the mud and the muck.

If they'd just write all them figures
On the brim of their hat.
When they were needed
They'd know where there at.

'Cause a cowboy may loose notes on snuff boxes
And stuff like that.
But if he ain't lost his head
He ain't lost his hat.