Walking on Bossy

I had my first novel published in 2008 -- Uncertain Times. I loved the two main characters so much I resurrected them in a prequel not at 50,000 words or so.

I need a cast of idiots for this book too, and I was musing about this part-time hermit and songwriter I conjured up by the name of Terwilliger Hudson. He looks like a friend of mine. Well, he didn't the friend mentioned he wanted to be in my next book, that is.

Terwilliger sits nekkid on a rock in the middle of the Northfork River in North Central Arkanas until he writes two songs a day. Sometimes he's there a day or two at a time if the word-images are coming slow.

So, I'm musing about Terwilliger (did I mention I was musing?) and was scuffing my feet on a cowhide rug in a friend's cabin in Marshall, Texas (Did I mention this friend's wife is a "looker?") and starting thinking (which is always a bad thing) and wrote this song. (IF you are real sharp and have some time ... try diagraming that sentence, okay?)

Did I mention that Terwilliger can not write songs, that he's the worst songwriter on the planet? I thought not.

WALKING ON BOSSY

There was a time back in my younger days
That I fell for this old girl that was the best in the herd
She loved me for who I was,
What I gave her,
She never uttered not one single discouraging word.

Then I moved to another county
And follow me she could not do,
So I took a part of her with me
So I would not feel so blue

A man named Lonesome Filligree
Put her down,
Oh, he put her down
He head-whomped her with a hammer
And put her in the ground.

But he skinned her and cured her hide
When she was ready, he sent her to me
I lovingly unrolled her perfect, tanned hide
And put her out for the world to see.

Chorus--

Walking on Bossy,
Feeling her hide with my feet
She's the last thing I walk on in the morning
And the last thing 'fore I go to sleep.

Oh, walking on Bossy
Is what takes away the pain
Of taking her to the slaughter house
So I wouldn't feel the strain
Of leaving that old milk cow
When I left my old home place,
Oh, walking on Bossy
The cow I can not replace.

Thank you. Thank you very much.