All posts by Jennifer June

Art & Culture

Those High Topped Boots

by Bob E. Lewis (1929-2001)

My wife and I were traveling across the upper Texas Plains,
When we came upon a small town there in the middle of nowhere.
We got out of that ole pickup truck just to stretch our legs a bit.
We decided we’d walk thru this town and take a look at it.

I saw a store down the street that really caught my eye,
It was the store of an old bootmaker and he was making that leather fly.
He had boots of every kind a sitting on the shelf,
Some belonged to customers and some were for himself.

He had one pair a sitting there that really caught my eye,
They had the underslung riding heel and the tops were really high.
I knew I had to have a pair before I left this town,
I looked over at my wife and she was wearing a great big frown.

I slipped that ole pair boots on and they fit just like a glove except
The tops were kinda high and were as tall as to my knee.
My wife said I don’t mean to tell you what to do you know,
But I don’t think at your age your legs are gonna grow.

I scratched my head and said to her as I chewed on my cigar,
Now these tops, they ain’t too tall mama, I just clumb down in’em too far.

Bob E. Lewis passed away April 24, 2001. He will be missed by me, and many others. There is a very nice tribute to Mr. Lewis posted by the folks at cowboypoetry.com.

Mr. Lewis dedicated his award winnning poetry web page “to all men and women who ever saddled an old horse and spent time working with cattle and horses”. His Rafter “L” Ranch remains full of good heart-felt poetry…and more web links.

Links

  • Please visit Rafter “L” Ranch to read more Bob Lewis poetry…and that of his friends. This website has the unique feature of posting many of the poems in audio-format.

© Bob E. Lewis, 1998. All poems are copyright the artist and should not be reproduced without permission.

Art & Culture

Charlie Dunn

by Jerry Jeff Walker

Well…if you’re ever in Austin, Texas, a little run down on your sole.
I’m going to tell you the name of a man to see,
I’m going to tell you right where to go.
He’s working in Capital Saddlery. He’s sewing in the back of the place.
He’s old Charlie Dunn, the little frail one with the smilin’ leathery face.

Charlie Dunn, he’s the one to see.
Charlie Dunn boots that are on my feet
It makes Charlie real pleased to see me walkin’ with ease…
Charlie Dunn, he’s the one to see.

Well…Charlie’s been making boots over there,
he says about 50 some odd years.
Once you wear a pair of handmade boots,
you’ll never wear a store-bought pair.
Charlie can tell what’s wrong with your feet, just a feelin’ them with his hands.
He can take a look at the boots your wearin’
…and know a whole lot about the man.

Charlie Dunn, he’s the one to see.
Charlie Dunn boots that are on my feet
It makes Charlie real pleased to see me walkin’ with ease…
Charlie Dunn, he’s the one to see.

Now Buck’s up front he’s accountin’ up his gold.
Charlie’s in the back patchin’ up a sole.
There are other people coming in smilin’ at him,
…they all wonder how’s old Charlie’s been.
Old Buck’s a makin’ change, he never sees no one.
He never understood the good things Charlie done.

Yeah, old Charlie never had his name on the sign.
He never put a mark in a boot.
He just hopes that you can remember him the same way that he does you.
He keeps your measurements in this little book,
…so you can order more boots later on.
Well, I’m writin’ down some on Charlie’s size, ’cause I’m makin’ him a song.

Charlie Dunn, he’s the one to see.
Charlie Dunn boots that are on my feet
It makes Charlie real pleased to see me walkin’ with ease…
Charlie Dunn, he’s the one to see.

Yeah, old Bucks a makin’ change, never sees no one
…and he never understood the good thing Charlie done.

Rumor has it…it was this song, that inspired Lee Miller to make boots. Lee Miller came to Austin, Texas to apprentice for Charlie Dunn when his shop first opened, in 1977. Charlie taught Lee his own way of making boots, including the secret-how-to’s of shop specialties, like interlaced monograms and mirror lettering. Lee and his wife Carrlyn bought the shop in 1986, and have since carried on Chalie Dunn’s work at Texas Traditions. Charlie Dunn’s friends sang this song at his funeral, in 1993….Lee Miller says, “Charlie loved that song.”

Links

© Jerry Jeff Walker, 1972.

Art & Culture

Boot Shopping

by Wallace McRae

It seemed to me a simple thing since my socks was showin’ through:
Turn my old boots out to pasture, and buy a pair–brand new.
Well, they built this cowboy K-Mart outa town there in the Mall,
Where I parked my Studdybaker after shippin’ drys this fall.
I found the store right easy ‘thout gettin’ tromped or gored,
And this clerk with a complexion like he’d growed up ‘neath a board
Is a-lurkin’at the boot pile an’ he asks me, “Help you, sir?”
Seems he knows that I’m a live one so I answers back, “Why sure.”
I tole him that my Hyers, that I’d had for thirty year,
Prob’ly was made faulty. And that I seen him sneer,
As he eyeballs how I’m shod. Then he dimples me a smile,
Says, “I can put you in exotics of the very latest style.”
I snorts at his “exotics,” tells him, “I’m a Hereford man,
But style sounds right ’cause, sonny, I’m an all-time ranahan.”
He starts in crackin’ critter skins outa boxes that’s absurd.
Why, one has prolapsed puckers like it come off’n a bird!
There’s lizzards, snakes and horny toads, crocodiles and eels,
Alligators, sharks; I’m feelin’ faint. I staggers and I reels.
I tells that sucker, “Whoa! Call of them varmits from yer swamp.
I ain’t about to put no foot in things I’m scairt to stomp!”

If yer gettin’ yerself reshod, well, pardner, here’s a clue,
Avoid them scaly crawlers that’ll strike ‘r bite ‘r chew.
Ask that boot clerk, “Do you carry and kangaroos or camels?
Or somethin’ in warm-blooded? I’m partial t’wards them mammals!”

(From Cowboy Curmudgeon, Gibbs M. Smith, Inc., 1992)

Wally McRae, a regularly featured performer at the annual Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Elko, has performed on a syndicated television program and at the National Cowboy Hall of Fame. He is the first cowboy poet to be granted a National Heritage Award.

Links

  • The book, Cowboy Curmudgeon, is still available from by Gibbs-Smith Publishing. This book contains 94 of McRae’s poems, including such classics as “Reincarnation,” along with 40 new poems published for the first time.

© Wallace McRae, 1992. All poems are copyright the artist and should not be reproduced without permission.

Art & Culture

Without a Full Deck (for Jennifer June)

by James V. Miller

Forty straight deals and I’d lost every hand,
And my hat, and my home, and a small piece of land,
My paycheck and pick-up had taken two routes,
When in walked the girl with the old snakeskin boots.

“Hard night you been havin?”, her silver eyes shined,
“Not too hard to lose, they’ve been cheatin me blind”,
My pockets were empty, not a dime to be found,
As I got up to leave, she bought the next round.

Her ante was in and she picked up her card,
And breathed in my ear, “Winning’s not all that hard”,
“It’s as hard as ya make it, my dad said to me”,
“Instead of four suits, I just play with three.”

She tossed out the diamonds and threw down a grand,
Didn’t look at the cards, and still won the next hand,
And the next, and the next, and the chips piled high,
“You’re just so damned lucky”, I said with a sigh.

“I’m so lucky at cards, but unlucky at this,”
She folded her hand and gave me a kiss,
Then the last drink was called, and the last hand was dealed,
And what happened next, well my lips are sealed.

Next day she left town with a smile on her face,
A bounce in her step, and her soul full of grace,
She gave me some presents, the keys to my truck,
The deed to my trailer, and a new sense of luck.

You cynical types, I know what you’ll say,
But I’ll honor her love to my last lovin’ day,
I continue to lose when I play with three suits,
But my hearts always go to the girl with the boots.

James V. Miller is popular Bay Area writer and poet. I want to thank him, because wrote this poem especially for me and this web page. Sometimes I tease James, tellin’ him he oughta get himself some boots made, with inlayed hearts up top…to match the one he’s got there on his sleeve.

© James V. Miller, 1998. All poems are copyright the artist and should not be reproduced without permission.