Life is full of stuff, and an amazing amount of it tickles me. A whole bunch of years back in time, I wrote an opinion in verse about the vicissitudes facing a young gal who is hoping to attract a handsome cowboy dude at a country dance. (Young bachelor cowboys tend to travel in pairs. Always one is a heart-throb, the other a candidate for frog king).
After all these years, a Montana symphony director is putting the poem to music. Imagine that! So, here’s the poem (shortened some from the original for efficient translation to a musical score).
The Bachelor From Hell
Cowboy Bart like the Marlboro man
Had testosterone Nan could smell!
And there by his side like a toad on a log
Stood Clyde, the Bachelor from Hell.
Footsteps approached; Nan closed her eyes.
Her heart began to swell;
She swung around, but the hand on her arm
Was Clyde’s, the Bachelor from Hell.
He’d worn his shirt for a month on the range,
His armpits were stained to his knees;
Out of his collar grew a tangle hair,
A hideout for cooties and fleas.
His frog belly sagged; Levis crept downward,
The crotch nearly hobbled his knees;
Each jump and gyration, Nan worried for fear,
They’d slip to a greater degree.
He twirled her around and she nearly cried
When he jerked her close to his side;
“We kin fly to Las Vegas, Li’l Heifer,” he said,
“By breakfast, you’ll be my sweet bride.”
With bit in her teeth, Nan guzzled bourbon,
Till Clyde started lookin’ real fine!
Next morning she woke and this is no joke —
She’d signed on the dotted line!
So gals, take heed, when you go to a dance
And you’re stalking the Marlboro Man,
Drop your loop early and jerk up your slack,
Or something might spoil your plan.
You’ll end up cooking three squares a day,
And washing his undies as well;
Each day that goes by you’ll wonder just why,
You’re stuck — with the Bachelor from Hell! ❖