It is a love sonnet of sorts…
this guy is sure full of himself!
Rustlers are predators, all else is prey!
I find a heifer, cut her from the herd,
And change her brand. Another cow procured!
We’re experts; we steal eighty head in days.
My boys and me, we drive them dogies hard
Until we reach a slaughterhouse out west
Where greedy butchers pay us for the best.
From there we’ll hit saloons for booze and cards.
I keep the sheriffs guessing with my cunning.
While I toss back another shot of whiskey,
The law stops by the bar. They say they’re gunning
For me… but they don’t know my face! It’s risky
But he’s just prey—I tell him that I’m thieving
Elsewhere. I’m right; he thanks me as I’m leaving.