The other day I was just wonderin’, as many cowboys do, about how Shakespeare would have reacted if he were to have experienced life in our Great American West. This poem presents one possibility.
Forsooth, a cowboy indeed he might be
seen here from the balcony of the mill.
He doth look the part in dress and manner
yet fearful I stand lest he do us ill.
They come not too frequently to this place
burdened with weapons yet do ride so free
but stop to rest and quaff the ale we brew
and frighten the fair maidens they do see.
Must we, Brutus, tolerate these riders
who encroach so freely on our domain
to satisfy the urges of their souls,
to indulge themselves and then leave again?
Shall our fair maidens then be not so fair
when these invaders ride away scot-free;
shall barrels stand as empty monuments
with nary a drop left for me and thee?