All right, all you buckaroos
Time to rope ‘em up
Ease on in to the ride…
Cowboys can be notoriously cocky because it takes a certain cockiness to become a cowboy. You have to believe that in some way you are different than most everybody else to take such a twisted and physically-tortured path. Not that you are necessarily better (though let’s be frank that that’s really what we’re saying, even if we never actually say it) – mostly that you are just built and made differently than most, because a cowboy’s life is not an easy one. They have to believe with all their heart that cowboying is the best choice for them – that it’s the only choice.
Sun’s a-goin’ down?on?this cattle town
Leave?your boots under the chair
And play?me a song on the steel guitar
In nothing but your underwear
We’ll have a couple of beers and look up at the stars
While the old white porch swing sways
Then come inside and I’ll give you a ride
At the end of your honkytonk day
A cowboy has to be ready to die for their work, their way of life, and this is not a life for the hesitant or weak. There are far too many risks for this to be a passing pose. It requires commitment and dogged determination, and a desire for the freedom and way of life only a cowboy’s existence affords.
Ride me, cowboy
Ride me good
(Won’t you ride, won’t you ride me good?)
Show me what you got goin’ on under that hood
Ride me, cowboy
‘Til the cows a-come home
(‘Til the cows, ’til the cows come home)
Look deep in my eyes, put your hands on my thighs
And ride, ride, ride
Nobody exemplifies the mantra of ‘work hard, play hard’ as well as the cowboy. Back-breaking days of cattle wrangling and bone-crunching dangers of steers and bulls and horns just waiting to impale make for nights of release that might astound the most practiced prostitute. Cowboys know how to use their bodies, skillfully throwing their heft and muscle around to successfully handle animals and beasts five times their weight. Couple that with the need for pleasure and release to offset the hard work, and you have the combustible legend of the cowboy as the ultimate love-maker. Bottom line: cowboys know how to have fun, and largely in a very physical sense.
Moon’s a-shinin’ bright on this desert night
Back in town they’re all in bed
But here in the country we’re wide awake
The blood is rushing to our heads
Your hands on my chest and our clothes in a pile
As you press your lips to mine
We can sweat it all out, holler and shout
As the tumbleweeds roll by
They work hard, they play harder, and they fuck hardest. They take their examples from the very animals they are tasked with mounting and mastering – a bit of beast-like wildness lies barely latent until they find some sort of inspiration or willing outlet in a lass or lad who pricks up notice at the slightest inclination. Then the game is on.
Ride me, cowboy
Ride me good
(Won’t you ride, won’t you ride me good?)
Show me what you got goin’ on under that hood
Ride me, cowboy
‘Til the cows a-come home
(‘Til the cows, ’til the cows come home)
Look deep in my eyes, put your hands on my thighs
And ride, ride, ride
Historically, not many cowboys identified as gay – though a number of them fucked and fooled around with other cowboys – they simply didn’t label it as gay. Perhaps they’re still way ahead of their time – existing and fornicating without label or designation – a hole being a hole being a hole. And love finding no word for love – not even love, because how could it ever be contained in a single word?
Ride me, cowboy
‘Til the cows a-come home
(‘Til the cows, ’til the cows come home)
Look deep in my eyes, put your hands on my thighs
And ride, ride, ride
Look deep in my eyes, put your hands on my thighs
And ride, ride, ride
But this post isn’t about love – at least nothing so explicitly said or conveyed – it’s about a cheeky romp of fun and casual good sex – the kind extolled in this cheeky song about some pre-dinner romp and gleefully delivered by Paisley Fields. The kind a cowboy does best.
Hustle up now
We’re almost there
Don’t stop now
Use both hands
Not too fast, you don’t wanna make it home too soon
Supper’s waitin’
Mmm, I can smell it right now, ah…
