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How I lost my Shirt(s)

How I lost my Shirt(s)

It’s tough to find some proper Western wear
that gives this male a Rhinestone Cowboy flare
(not meaning pants that make an old man blush
because they show the details of his tush).

I fret about a certain style of shirts
that I had always bought at Smith and Kertz,
our valley’s Tack-N-Feed and Clothing Store
where I had bought those fancy shirts before.

I picked out three that pleased my roving eye
and thought I would enjoy them by and by--
The counter girl explained they had been made
in Bangladesh, and of the finest grade,

part cotton, grown in Egypt, and the rest . . .
I don’t recall—but I was quite impressed.
Those pearly snaps, of course, are just my style
because plain buttons always take a while

to button up and down. My fingers are
a trifle stiff, which leaves my shirt ajar
when I can’t get that button through the hole--
in short, I hate those buttons as a whole.

Since I don’t want some cowboy’s germ “transplants,”
I never wear new store-bought shirts or pants
(to tell the truth, I would not give a bean,
but my good wife does care about “hy-GIENE”).

Cottons shrink, no matter what the labels claim,
while most synthetics still remain the same.
So, she had washed, then dried my western shirts,
and they were puckered like her square-dance skirts.

She said, she washed them in soft water “warm”
and thought, oh, what the hell, that can’t do harm,
but then--imagine her chagrin: they dried
all shrunken, wrinkled. Goodness, how she cried!

My “X-tra Large” became a puny “Small.”
The cuffs rode up and wouldn’t fit at all.
I took all three back to the western store,
the shop girl said, “Have you been here before?”

“Would you refund my money, pretty please?”
But she just laughed: “Sir, you are such a tease,
“No refund on your laundered western wear;
now STICK THAT in your pipe for all I care.”

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I used to fancy cowboy style shirts myself, but stopped wearing them when I became a hippie! I think there may be one floating around on a hanger in my closet somewhere, but I'm sure it wouldn't fit me anymore. Anyway, I understand that cadence is a personal thing in a lot of work and I'm trying to get the hang of the twang! ~ Geezer

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Yeah, those snap buttons are petty nifty. Easy to get in and out of your shirt. Horsemen love them 'cuze when you get bucked off your hoss, sliding ass over tea kettle over the horn of your saddle, you don't get caught on your buttoned shirt.'cuze those snaps let go and you hit the ground el pronto. Enjoy your shirts while they fit, and thank ye kindly for reading, sir. And pardon my twang; I can do better than that, lol. jerry

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quite amused by your adventures and the writing of this poem


Hi Lynn;
thank you for reading my adventurous escapade at the tack store, but mostly for being amused by my write. Much appreciated, Jerry,

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