I wrote this cowboy poem when I was in, what I call, one of my "Miranda Moods." AKA when I feel like a blinged out, total cowgirl, badass... like Miranda Lambert. (Who, if you haven't figured out by now, I love). This song was almost entirely inspired by the character behind the song "Little Wed Ragon", so take a listen.. and then read the newest Story Sunday. :)
I like the way people stare when I wear my jingle-jangle spurs in the grocery store,
And I like the way they draw attention as they clank across old saloon floors,
I like my turquoise big, loud and bold when it's draped around my neck,
And you're damn right in the assumption i'm prepared to give just about anybody heck.
I'm not sure what you'd call me - vintage, classless, tired or new,
But around these parts I'm one of the last of the dying few.
A girl that's tough as nails but still paints them cherry red,
A girl that doesn't let most any of remark go to her head.
You see, I learned long ago we all still mount from the same side,
But that doesn't mean sometimes it's better to stand up for yourself, than hide.
See - I've been backed into corners by ugly, gruesome broncs,
And also by men at dusty, dirty, honky tonks.
Both times I pursed my lips, then let out a deep old growl,
And I let them know - you think you're bad, well honey I am down right foul.
It takes courage to stand up and be who you really are,
And I can do that pretty much anywhere - whether it be near or far.
I walk with a little swagger, even on days I don't feel up to snuff,
Because most people wouldn't dare try to call my bluff.
And so although my rings may be shiny, my boots are still scuffed and tall,
And for the thousands of horses I've ridden - I've had my share of falls,
Each time I've hit the dirt, I've gotten up, brushed off and fixed my hair,
Because that's the type of girl I am - a little bit gritty with a touch of more elegant airs.