The Dance

by Eric Ode
A hard-working cowboy was Chesterton Clyde,
and Anabelle Sue was the horse he would ride.
Together they traveled the hills far and wide,
the cowboy and Anabelle Sue.

Now, late on a Friday they rode into town,
and Chesterton watched as the sun settled down.
Then sweaty and dusty and dirty and brown,
he climbed off of Anabelle Sue.

From off in the distance, a banjo was heard
and joined by a fiddle as sweet as a bird.
So Chesterton followed but said not a word
while leading his Anabelle Sue.

They came to a barn where a mandolin played
and folks in their finest, they spun and they swayed.
The cowpuncher sighed at the soft serenade
along with his Anabelle Sue.

A pretty young lady, so gentle and fair
was dressed up with flowers and bows in her hair.
She smiled very sweetly and blushed at the pair,
that cowboy and Anabelle Sue.

The melody soared with the sounds of romance
as softly she said, “It’s a fine night to dance.”
She gave to the cowboy a hesitant glance
while petting old Anabelle Sue.

“I reckon it is,” answered Chesterton Clyde.
“I ain’t danced before, but it’s high time I tried.”
Then bowing politely, he shuffled inside
and danced with his Anabelle Sue.

Text © Eric Ode, reprinted from Tall Tales of the Wild West (And a Few Short Ones), published by Meadowbrook Press. Illustration © Ben Crane. Any copying or use of this poem or illustration without consent is unlawful.

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