English Cowboy

English Cowboy short poem

Photo by Juanedc

I see a Cowboy walking down the street…
He looks like he’s a stranger here, from a place I have never been.
He tips his hat at the ladies and they are all smiling back at him.
If I bought myself a cowboy hat, they still would never smile at me.
Because I’m an English man in England,
I cannot stand out from the crowd;
But the Cowboy walking down this London street,
He ain’t looking like no clown.

He owns his style and he walks so proud;
That is something I could never do.
In this place, I am always lost, somehow.
Maybe if I went to his land, I could find myself in tune.

He’s heading for his hometown;
I’m walking out on mine.
I see him at the airport,
Waving all those smiling ladies goodbye.
When we land over in his land,
He just becomes the same as all the rest.
I walk into the nearest bar and order myself a drink…
Oh my God! I love your accent!

I’m a stranger in a strange town
And I feel as if I’m right at home.
I’m so glad I left those London streets;
Maybe I could have stayed, but sometimes you just have to go…

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