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BUYING
A BRA
Cowboy Poetry
~
By Loren Moore
You
know, I ain't never been much for shopping |
In
fact, I try to stay away from town |
Except when shopping time comes |
I
ain’t that easily found. |
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But the day came when I had to go |
And I left the kids with ma |
But before I left, she asked me |
"Would you pick me up a bra?"
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Without thinkin’ I said "sure" |
How tough could that job be? |
I knelt down and kissed her |
And said I’d be back by three
|
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Well, when I done the things I
needed |
I started to regret |
Ever offering to buy that thing |
I was working up to a sweat. |
|
I crossed the street to the
clothes store |
With my hat pulled over my
eyes |
I wasn’t takin’ no chances |
On a bein’ recognized
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I walked right up to the
sales clerk |
an' I didn’t hem or haw |
I told the lady right
straight out |
"Ma’am, I’m here ta buy
a bra."
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From behind I
heard some
snickers |
So I turned around
to see |
At least 15 women
in the shop |
And they’s all a
gawkin’ right at
me!
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"What kind
would you be
looking
for?" |
"Well," I
just
scratched my
head |
I’d only
seen one
kind before |
"Thought
bras was
bras," I
said
|
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She
gives
me a
disgusted
look |
"Sir,
that’s
where
you’re
wrong |
Come
with
me," I
heard
her
say |
An'
like a
dog, I
tagged
along
|
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She took me down this alley |
Where bras was on display |
Well, I thought my jaw’d hit the floor |
When I seen that lingerie |
|
They had all these different styles |
Thangs I’d not seen before |
I thought that I’d go crazy |
‘fore I left that women’s store |
|
They had bras you could wear for eighteen hours |
And bras that cross your heart |
There was bras that lift and separate |
And that was just the start |
|
They had bras that made you feel |
Like you weren’t wearing one at all |
And bras that you can train in |
When you start off, when you’re small |
|
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Well I finally made my mind up |
Picked a black and lacy one |
I told the lady "Bag it up," |
an' figured I was done |
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But then she asked me |
for the size ~ I didn’t hesitate |
I knew them measurements |
by heart ~ "it's 6 7/8ths" |
|
"Six and seven eighths, well sir |
That really isn’t right" |
"Oh yes ma’am, I’m positive, |
I just measured em just last night |
|
I thought that she’d go into shock, |
Musta took her by surprise |
When I told her that my wife’s bust |
Was just the same as my hat size |
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"That’s what I use to measure with, |
I figured it was fair |
But if I’m wrong, I’m sorry ma’am." |
An' that drew another stare |
|
By now, a crowd had gathered |
An' they’s all a crackin' up |
When the lady asked to see my hat |
To measure tha size of tha cup |
|
When she finally had it figured out |
I gave the gal her pay |
I turned to leave the store |
Tipped my hat ‘n said "Good day" |
|
My wife heard the whole story |
‘Fore ever I made it home |
She’d talked to fifteen women |
Who’d called her on the phone |
|
She was still a laughin’ |
But by then I didn’t care |
Now she don’t ask, and I don’t shop |
For no more women’s underwear. |
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BY OUR DEAR
DEPARTED BROTHER
|
LOREN MOORE |
COPYRIGHT
2003 |
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