By Laura Ditto
I’m sure you must have heard
of many cowboy men—
Billy the Kid and Buffalo Bill—
but this ain’t about all them.
See, I doubt you know
that among the plains,
a mighty girl once roamed
with skill about the reins.
In fiesty herds of cattle
she always stood her ground
and fired a blazing pistol
with a deafening sound.
Yes, it is she—
who rangers never slew—
the fearsome, frightening, fighting:
the Mighty Wrangler Sue.
They say she could mend clothes,
while riding cross the range,
yodeling into the night
so folks all called her strange.
She liked to walk in trousers,
and at danger never flew.
She ne’er denied a challenge:
the Mighty Wrangler Sue.
They say she wrastled cattle,
while drinking high noon tea.
Oh, those boiling, sandy plains
are where she’d long to be.
She lived amongst the tumbleweeds,
on campfires cooked her stew,
yet if crossed, her aim was sharp:
the Mighty Wrangler Sue.
The notches on her pistol
were numbered few but deep.
To make her an opponent
was a date with death to keep.
And yet with all her talents,
there was one she could not do,
and this one fault is how she fell:
the Mighty Wrangler Sue.
She always took a challenge,
so when told she’d ne’er get hitched,
Sue found herself a man right quick
and a wedding dress she stitched.
That day she proved to all
while walking up the pews,
that she could really woo a man.
So then that was Wrangler Sue.
On her wedding day,
she laughed at bachelorettes;
doted on her conquered man
for all the wedding guests.
She hung her silver spurs
and promised to be true,
but it was this small vow
that near ended Wrangler Sue.
Her days were filled with housework.
Her nights were filled with dreams.
Yet even with a stable home,
she longed for desert streams.
It was with heavy heart
she watched her life turn blue.
For wearing skirts and baking pies
was not made for Wrangler Sue.
She dawdled with the townsfolk
and tried to find some joy,
but Mighty Sue could not rest long
as a plan came to deploy.
She stayed stagnant for a month
before knowing what to do,
and in the dark she finally fled:
the Mighty Wrangler Sue.
She took up her old pistol,
and strapped on steely spurs.
In running from provincial life,
she finally felt sure.
In the morn’ her horse was gone,
and all the townsfolk knew,
t’would be the last they ever saw
of Mighty Wrangler Sue.
Some are made for peace.
Some for things more gory.
Sue required the latter,
and this has been her story.
Nowadays there’s some that say,
that in the nightly dew,
a cheerful yodeling call is heard
from the Mighty Wrangler Sue.
