This amazing photo of unknown origin brings to mind one of the earliest episodes of Fibstorm Follies from the Onion Patch, circa 1997.
- Bob (Bubba) Badger and his pickup truck, Roland
- Perry (Willie) Williams, published cowboy poet and former rodeo clown
- Don (Tatereye) Tidwell, “that Utah feller”
“Oh, they tell me of an uncloudy day …”
Leave it to a Texan to find an innovative approach to, or exit from, any tight sitch-ee-yay-shun.
I live on the West Texas plain.
I'm kind of a dry desert dweller.
I rarely get wet from the rain
Even though I don't own an umbrella.
I went on a trip a while back,
And I think it deserves some explainin'.
The trav'lin' was fun, for a fact,
But the weather was chilly and rainin'.
Though most of my friends have seen showers
And wallowed in puddles for fun.
It's rare that a storm lasts for hours...
A few puny drops, and it's done.
I asked myself while I was soakin',
Is this really Fairbanks or Nome?
My buddies'll think I'm just jokin',
So I'd better take this cloud home.
Now, I am a bit of a wrangler,
It's said I'm more apt than the norm.
And this little would-be frog-strangler
Don't look like too much of a storm.
I took out my lariat rope
That I'd thought to bring from the garage.
Then that cloud made me look like a dope...
‘Cause when I'd fling a loop, it would dodge.
But I finally met with success
And dallied around Roland's wheel.
Then me an' ol' Roland went West
And the storm up above kicked its heels.
But before I could snug up my noose
The cloudburst gave one mighty heave
My best ropin' lasso came loose.
And the cloud and its rain took its leave.
You might think that I've gone to lyin'
But I'm sure chagrined that I missed.
And, although that cloud went a-flyin',
The rainbow is next on my list.
Bubba … Somehow, your stuff inspires a response I can’t control, so: Here we go again !! (Big Grin 🙂 )
I just had a note from an hombre
who lives on the West Texas Plain..
He told a tall tale of great daring
about him and 'Ol Roland and rain
He claimed that while him and 'Ol Roland,
was cruisin along feelin proud,
He suffered uneasy discomfort
because of some pesky rain cloud..
But bein from Westernmost Texas,
he wasn't about to sit still,
and put up with the misdeeds of nature,
for goin against his strong will.
He took out the nylon riata
he'd fetched from 'Ol Roland's garage,
and built him a loop with a flourish,
to use when he launched his barrage.
His plan was to lasso that culprit,
and with 'Ol Roland's help he allowed,
that he'd tighten the noose on that sucker,
and squeeze all the rain from that cloud.
Well, he throwed that big loop doin thirty,
and he roped that old cloud with a laugh,
But when Roland slammed down on the rubber,
it plumb cut that raincloud in half!
Poor Bubba now faced a dilemma...
He didn't know what he should do,
for before where there'd been only one cloud,
He was now gittin rained on by two.
Him and Roland got wetter and wetter,
So they both headed back to the barn....
Meanwhile Bubba's head was devisin a plan
that would let him stand tall with this yarn,
He stopped in at Smoky's to git him a beer
before goin home and to bed,
and he told all his cronies "Thet cloud was no challenge."
"I'll ketch me its rainbow, instead."
If Bubba gets away with this cloud ropin’ thing, we won’t even be able to have competition in dusty rodeo arenas anymore. Them clouds jumpin’ outa the chute will have it soggy and messy as a Bill Upchurch crawdad fishin’ contest!!!
He growed up on the prairie
Where he watched the clouds pass by
He always was a lonesome kid
And sometimes wondered why
Them clouds was sometimes lilly white
And sometimes blackish, blue
They sometimes rolled and tumbled
And they sometimes blowed right through
But bein' awful lonesome
He thought that he would get
A noose around a fat one, and
He'd keep it for a pet
But Bubba weren't much roper
Didn't know it ain't allowed
For a macho Texas cowboy
To be ropin' at a cloud
And so he starts to ropin'
And flingin' at the sky
He latches to a fat one
But he cain't figger why
That when he jerks his slack up
He don't get no resistence
Cain't rope and tie up no dang cloud
In spite of his persistence
And so Ol' Bubba stands there
His rope is wet and limp
His right arm is a throbbin'
And his leg is kinda gimp
But Willie says, don't worry pard
As he gives out a chuckle
With practice you will someday win
....A rare, " Cloud Ropin' Buckle"
When I'ze a kid, and silly,
I knew him as a chum.
A "top hand" known as Willie
Oft to my aid he'd come.
He guffawed at my tries
At ropin' clouds for naught.
Imagine his surprise
When I finally got one caught.
It was a little cirrus
That fell prey to my noose
But, then things got quite serious
'Cause I couldn't turn it loose.
And then, here come his Daddy,
A big ol' thundercloud.
He'z actin like he'z mad. He
Was boomin' extra loud.
Then, from thin air, there'z Willie!
He took two breaths...real deep.
He fought that cloud until he
Had made it tame as sheep.
And that's how Willie knew that
A rodeo clown he'd make.
Not many men can do that...
Savin' cowboys from mistakes.
It didn't take a fearless clown
To save Ol' Bubba when he got down
Plumb underneath a Papa Cloud
Who's actin' nasty, mean and loud
It just took cowboy suave and tact
To get that hombre to go back
In Texas skies where clouds should be
After Bubba set his young un free
And I told Bubba, get it straight
Drag no more clouds in through that gate
Just rope the chickens, rope the dog
Catch a goat, tie up a hog
But pard, I'm tellin' you out loud
You just ain't built for catchin' cloud
You got to wear a rubber suit
For when you catch that wet galoot
Don't tie 'im with a piggin' string
A garden hose is what you bring
To wrap 'im up and tame 'im down
And lead him meekly in to town
Oh Bubba, boy what will we do
With a cloud ropin' pard like you
We want to see you up on top
But this ropin' clouds.......
HAS GOT TO STOP!