SONG CHALLENGE WINNER!

The Song Challenge:   Digging herself in deeper and deeper -- Yep, it's your one and only Giver-uppper of the Golden Cow Chips, back from the 'moving' wars and ready to test your little gray cells once again!! I'll just take this opportunity to let all you wonderful Challenge!rs know how much I've missed you -- and I hope we won't ever be parted for so long again . . . This Challenge! will be sorta personal, if y'all don't mind too much ;-) . . . I do think, however, that it will test your collective imagination and rhyming capabilities satisfactorily . . . Here's a picture of the new homestead, perched appropriately on a high sandstone hill in the Post Oak Savannah of Texas (the East Cross Timbers, to be exact). Please note the sandstone wall on the left . . . behind that wall is a curious little patch of broken stones, buried in a sandy clay loam, quite different from the rest of the grounds (you can't 'dig' here -- there's one inch of dirt, then rock, then THICK wet (not damp) clay).  I've been digging and breaking rocks with my trusty spade and pickaxe for two weeks now, and I still haven't reached the bottom of this strange plot of earth. However, I have discovered a few interesting things buried under the first layer of dirt and rock . . . your Challenge! is to write a song about what I found buried beneath the red-tipped photinias, honeysuckle and asian jasmine . . . let your minds run wild and let your collective freak flags fly, my dear Challenge!rs and GO FOT IT!  Hugs and snogs to each and every one of you -- and two kisses on each of your cheeks (hahaha) -- Áine (songtress, chef, chief bottle washer and now Mad Gardener)


Dig Up My Stetson by Rollo
(Sing it to "The Streets of Laredo")

When I was a young man and punched the cattle,
one day I was chasing an Indian brave.
Through gullies and bushes our horses were dashing,
His well-aimed arrow put me to the grave...

My comrades they found me and and buried my body,
I´d died in my boots, still holding the gun,
they laid me to rest and they gave me my Stetson
to give me some shelter from rain and from sun.

They all stood around me and muttered a prayer
and piled up a grave-hill completely of stones
to send me an angel to lead me to heaven
and hinder the wild beasts from eating my bones.

I rested in pieces for over a century
Indians and buffalos were gone long ago
when up came a smart guy and bought my small graveyard,
building a wall and a big bungalow!

Then up came this woman who wanted a garden,
removing the stones to make room for the lawn,
digging like mad until late in the evening,
starting again in the first hour of dawn.

Already she dug up my watch and my Stetson,
my Mexican spurs and my forty-four gun,
tomorrow my boots she will strip from my ankles,
and leave my old bones to bleach in the sun...

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