Get Back Mr. Black

I did not steal this Baxter Black
these words are mine, I'm a cowboy hack.
 
I wrote some poems in a cheap motel
just some toilet paper and I couldn't spell.
 
Printed them up on a copy machine
and sent them in to a magazine.
 
They didn't use em, they sent em back
said, "Sorry pard, we got Baxter Black."
 
Now he's selling books and tapes
while I'm at Denny's flippin' crepes
 
or crackin' my bones sailin' off a horse
there's no more fun then writin' of course.
 
When I was lost in that winter storm
I froze three fingers n' got a good poem.
 
But I'm a writin' fool and some day soon
him and me will meet at high noon.
 
Maybe then he'll explain to me
why a writer like me is writin for free.
 
But don't worry folks I've got rhymes
about those heartfelt cowboy times
 
like where a cowboy poet can spend the night
when the next day he has to stand and recite.
©Steve Dirksen