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  • Writer's pictureJason E. Fort

The Greenville Cowboy


The Greenville Cowboy

The man would mosey in from the street, Perfect stitching in his boots. He had a slanted smile like Elvis Elbow patches on his suit. He’d walk right up to the the bar, Tell Todd he was ready for round one. He’d nod his head towards the bouncer Pretending his hand was a gun. Everyone at Chicora Alley Knew this cowboy by his first name. They may not know how he got there, But they sure were glad he came. He never aimed to offend you But you’d sure know where he’d stand If someone dissed the bartender Or bad-mouthed the local band. A gentleman by all standards, Whether he’d had one or twenty. If you were looking for one-liners, This cowboy, he had plenty. He was an honest Southern gent; Of that, there was no doubt. A good drink, sports, and politics Were some things he’d talk about. If you never met this Greenvillian But ever talked to his friends downtown, I guarantee they shared a piece of him ‘Cause he was such a joy to be around. So if you stop by Chicora Alley Just be still, and listen close.. You might just hear the Greenville Cowboy Raise a glass to Heaven for a toast. And if you hear the Cowboy’s whisper And hold your glass up in return, Expect the ghost of the Greenville Cowboy To give you a lesson or two to learn. If you’re lucky, he’ll impart his wisdom And order another shot or two, But just like this long poem He still won’t be quite through. Before he tips his ghostly hat And takes the steps down to the street, He’ll belt out a stanza of Johnnie Cash And finish with a bow to his feet. With a wave of his grand hat And that shiny-toothed Elvis grin, The Greenville Cowboy’s last words to you: “Until we meet again.”


--- JEF

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