The old man was the quiet type; he led a lonely life.
He hated crowds of people and any kind of strife.

His mule that he called Jessie seemed to be his only friend.
He walked with painful shuffle, you could tell it hurt to bend.

Folks called him, “Old Prospector,” that’s the only name they knew.
He would only nod in greeting, his spoken words were few.

He’d come to sell some dust and to buy a little grub,
He’d bought some salt and flour and a number two washtub.

While loading things on Jessie, he passed a cowboy by,
Who had a big six shooter he was pointing at the sky.

The cowboy was a showoff and he thought he’d have some fun;
When Old Prospector turned around, he was lookin’ at a gun.

Cowboy shot the tub then asked Prospector could he dance.
Prospector never said a word, just stood as in a trance.

The next shot went between his feet but he didn’t move an inch.
Another took his boot toe off but still he didn’t flinch.

Two more shots between his boots but the old man stood his ground;
The town folk heard the shootin’ and they quickly gathered ’round.

With still no break of silence, Prospector turned his back.
Cowboy’s gun clicked empty, as prospector reached his pack.

Then Cowboy found himself on the other end of fun.
The only thing that he could see was a ten gauge scatter gun.

He quickly learned it never pays to treat an old man cruel.
Prospector very quietly asked, “Have you ever kissed a mule?”

Cowboy vowed to show no fear, for that would never do.
So in a blustery voice he said, “No, but I’ve had a hankerin’ to.”

I guess that we have all known someone like Cowboy. He’s the one that dominates every conversation, he is an expert on any topic and he, to his last breath, will never admit that he was wrong. If he falls on his face, he will claim that he did it on purpose.

Cowboy will never bother Prospector again, but in his own mind he will have convinced himself that he won the encounter.