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Remember that limerick I wrote a couple of days ago? Here's the REST of the story. . .
The meanest old Brangus bull
in at least three counties
was standing in the wrong pasture
up at the Lazy Lee.
Julie went out the first time.
Then Jerry tried the second,
they both went out the third time.
Each time with a charge, he met them.
What do you do when your bull’s
the meanest in the land?
You find the meanest horse,
and get it’s owner to lend a hand.
After much discussin’,
my mare won the draw.
There was no denyin’,
she’s the meanest of them all.
She’s got a reputation.
She’s known far and wide
for backing a bull up to the fence
and taking chunks out of his hide.
So I hauled her up there.
I just couldn’t resist.
I was purely looking’ forward
to givin’ the old bull fits.
We finally found him standing out,
by an empty water tank.
He eyed us all and pawed the ground.
His head lowered, and my heart sank.
The mare just rightly stood her ground.
She would call his bluff.
She leveled him off, eye to eye.
He weren’t givin’ her no guff.
He charged her, but she was lightning quick,
she cut out of his way.
He was fast, but she was faster.
She’d live to fight another day.
They leveled off again,
once more eye to eye.
Once more he came after her,
this time left, she shied.
That mare she’s a testy one.
Her patience was wearing thin.
She decided to make him pay
for his deadly sins.
So, like all good cow ponies,
she hunched and went to ground.
Her ears laid back, her teeth bared.
She was the toughest thing around.
Now it would be her turn
to bring this to a close.
So she rushed up and bit him
on his tender nose.
The bull looked so bewildered.
Never in his life before
had blood been drawn from him
by any lousy horse.
He decided not to fight her,
best turn around and run.
He really wasn’t sure that she
wouldn’t eat him, just for fun.
He took off like greased lightning.
Runnin’ for the road.
He had to give up sometime,
but where, we didn’t know.
Jerry and I followed him,
Julie went for the truck.
We’d put up with more from that ol’ boy
than most cowboys would buck.
Julie found him on the road
determined to stay there till summer.
So she got behind him
and gave him a dose of bumper.
Every time he’d think to stop,
she’d bump him with the grill.
After a little while of this
he moved on, smooth as silk.
She got him home and in a pen.
I asked the burning question,
“What’cha gonna do with him now?”
Her exact words, I won’t mention.
I will tell y’all this, though,
Our freezers are pretty full.
No meat ever tasted so sweet
as that soured rank old bull.
November 21, 2001
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