Thursday, July 1, 2010

Giant Things of Montana

Thursday, July 1, 2010
4 comments
Oh mighty Giant Rifleman
giant gun in giant hands
looking for a giant thrill
from giant varmints you could kill

But sadly you must stay right here
guarding the casino by your rear
And what of those gambling innocents
if you have a bit of flatulence?

I see them screaming, clothes alight
staggering out into the night
a giant fart from giant jeans
caused by giant can of beans

That unhappy look upon your face
makes me think you hate this place
you cannot sit, or run, or dance
or change your giant underpants

O Giant Cowboy, what a life
all alone, no giant wife
wired in place, yet standing tall
the world to you must seem so small.

4 comments:

On July 1, 2010 at 1:44 PM Murr Brewster said...

Poor Cowboy must be sweating it,
Since Giant Jesus took a hit,
Buck up, our Buckaroo, you're still
The muse to our beloved Bill!

On July 1, 2010 at 2:10 PM corey said...

Giant cowboy in Montana
Of you I am a giant fan, a
Big aficionado if you will
But not as big a fan as Bill.


Great post!

On July 1, 2010 at 7:06 PM Anne said...

There once was a Cowboy Gigantic
Who could be seen (almost) from the Atlantic
But when spotted by Bill
A poem did spill
And now Cowboy is as infamous as the Titanic.

On July 4, 2010 at 4:28 AM Steve said...

My name is Will
And I'm a giant cowboy,
His name is Bill
And he's a big birder.
It makes me mad
And I won't be coy,
But he's very bad
to commit poetic murder.


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