I hope no one minds my posting this - I know weve got a bunch o Festus fans here. It looks like my newest book is going to be a collection of my western poems, mostly novelty rhymes. And since my original Festus rhyme is in Ben Costellos wonderful Gunsmoke book, I needed to pen one for my own book. Hope you like it. Its called Whiskers :) Whiskers by Sandy Henry Hitched up to the rail at the Long Branch saloon is an oversize, trusty ol’ mule. Ruth isn’t a she-male, as one might expect – But his rider don’t play by that rule. Festus Haggen was born to a wily ol’ clan, He’s got cousins and uncles galore. There’s perty Aunt George and young Mayblossom, too. And Feeder, too big to ignore. The Haggens are spread ‘cross the gulleys and hills, With their own brand of hillybilly smart. A mite skilled with a shotgun – they’ll shoot off your ear (well, only the hangy-down part). Festus ain’t much for workin’, but he earns his keep Lookin’ after the yay-hoos in jail. The Marshal depends on him time and again, Knowin’ Haggens will somehow prevail. He can tussle with Quint, chase a lady or two, Or call out the meanest square dance. But he’s happiest just playing horseshoes or cards. Festus flies by the seat of his pants. His rich baritone may just catch ya’ off-guard, For this Haggen’s got quite a fine voice. Then he whistles and yodels and grates on Doc’s nerves, Though it’s obvious it’s by his choice. For Festus, while never a particle mean, Can present with a sun-weathered crust. But he’s tender and soft on the inside, o’ course, a fair man his friends certainly trust. “You stay in the buggy,” he’s mentioned before, To Kitty, Doc Adams and Matt. He’d lay down his life for the need of a friend. There ain’t any doubt about that. And Festus is wise, though he can’t read or write – The breadth of his schoolin’ hard-won. With his hand on his pistol, he’s fast on the draw. Count on Whiskers to git the job done.
Posted on: Tue, 03 Jun 2014 23:34:32 +0000
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