SNAKE WRANGLER

By: Rusty Tolley

[Based on a True Story.]

I’d just unsaddled my Roan,
And was tending my string,
When from my back porch,
I heard my wife scream.

Now she’s a ranch girl,
Not much gets her undone,
So I head to house,
At a trot, then a run.

“Snake”, she exclaimed.
I say, “No cause for alarm”.
And I tapped my chaps pocket,
Where I tote my sidearm.

“It’s got in the house,
She said with distress,
You can’t shoot it there,
Too much of a mess.”

Well there’s no need to panic,
I said keeping stride.
I’ll trap him in a bucket,
Then take him outside.

“You don’t get it,” she said,
Then I heard this refrain.
“He’s in the kitchen sink,
And headed down the drain.”

So I run in the house,
To the kitchen I sped,
Sure-nuf, in the sink I see four feet of tail
But I don’t see no head.

As I survey the scene,
My concern starts to mount,
I spot 6 or 8 rattles,
I don’t stop to count.

I just get a holt of this reptile,
And I’m grippin’ him tight,
but I know in a second,
This snake’s on the fight.

He whipped me ‘cross the kitchen table,
The dishes they flew.
I knocked over two bowls
Of Son of Gun stew.

Then he goes the other way,
This snake had some torque,
Now I’m astraddle the dish drainer,
Atop a spoon and a fork.

But I kept a tight hold,
Like I’m tailin’ a calf.
And I stand up on the sink,
And my wife starts to laugh.

Now I’m sure you’ll understand,
I get a bit peeved,
‘Cause I’ve got a busted lip,
And blood on my sleeve.

Now you can’t really blame me,
For bein’ a bit mad,
Through that snake’s tail I’m receiving,
twice the information she had.

Now my boots are on the counter ledge,
Spur’s bitin’ the cabinet door,
I’m hangin’ on for dear life,
Parallel to the floor.

I guess his head cleared the drain trap,
‘Cause he suddenly comes loose,
And I hit the linoleum,
Right on my caboose.

I get up and start swingin’
Like I’m headin’ a steer,
And the wife she stops laughin’
She has to move to stand clear.

I swingin’ six feet of snake,
And maybe some more,
Had to do some trick ropin’
Just to get out of the back door.

I made my release,
As I hit the front gate,
I’ll never know who felt better,
Whether me or the snake.

Now I’ve ridden some broncs,
And a bull or two,
Roped lots of steers,
Done some bulldoggin too.

But they say the biggest thrill,
A man can get,
Is to be in a gunfight,
And get shot at and missed.

Well, that could be true,
I’m not here to boast,
But I reckon wrangling a rattler,
Comes pretty dang close.