Bronco Bub

Bronco Bub aimed his four-wheel drive,
      Aimed it west, aimed it home,
Headed back out to where he was born,
      Back out to the wide-open great plains of Kansas

He daydreamed of home
      Dust kicking up all around
Whenever he drove down that long stretch
      Between the grain-silo and the four lane
Stones and pebbles flying behind him in the kick-up

Jersey had been profitable for him,
      Had made the difference
Between keeping the old family farm
      Even for a little while longer
And being forced to sell

His guitar, banjo, harmonica and singing voice
      Had just earned him in four months
What it might take him
      Years to earn
Just waiting for that fickle old harvest
      To turn a big-enough profit

He'd come out after the crops were in,
      Even left Cissy behind
And now he was headed back with a new head of confidence
      Couldn't wait
With new skills
       New contracts signed
            New portfolio built
      New demo tapes, recording equipment, everything he'd need
To fix that old barn out beyond the Elm, down near to lazy crick
      Create some semblance of a studio
Open mikes, waiting for Bronco Bub
      To pump out music, lay down tracks
The airwaves of America still don't know they've never heard yet

He was grateful to Jersey
      These four months
Could mean the world
      To Bronco Bub and Cissy,
And God-willing, Junior and Sis some day
      Might even have a whisker of a chance to suceed
"That's all I need, Mister," he told his skeptical agent,
      "This country's gonna know a lot more about Bronco Bub
'Afore I get through
            You wait a see"

So Bronco Bub aimed his four-wheel drive,
      Aimed it west,
            Aimed it home
                  Aimed it proud
            Aimed it confident
Headed back to where he was from
      To where folks are waiting for him
Back on the wide-open great plains of Kansas


For Conversations With Walt
Denis J, Kelly
Oct. 25, 2011