THE LEGEND OF THREE TOED BOB

The Legend of Three Toed Bob

Bob ran the old chuck wagon

For the guys out on the trail

He cooked all day while they were away

And roped them back in with the smell.

Now, the boys, they all knew better

Than to inquire of Bob 'bout the fare

Cause Bob was a high strung and sensitive Yankee

And he sizzled and stewed with such care.

One hot day  Ole Daniel, the trail boss

Dared to embarrass Bob 'fore the bunch

And the very next day he was munching on hay

And had cactus and scorpion for lunch.

Stew was Bob's big specialty

Stew and a strange kind of bread

The men quietly ate and they all cleaned their plates

Though the grub, it went down just like lead.

Out on the drives, you're not picky

You eat what you get to survive

Bacon and beans and a soup full of strings

A pot roast made of stuff still alive.

Now Bob was a curious feller

Talked 'northern he did with no slang

He tried to rope steers after two or three beers

But of the sport, he could not get the hang.

Well, they say he was a butcher back east there

But was fired from each job that he found

Nearsighted, near blind, he'd leave pieces behind

Of his fingers and thumbs on the ground.

He couldn't cut meat too good with no digits

Though the Lord knows he tried hard to do it

He was forced to hold steaks with his toe then

And one day he, well, he cut right through it.

By the time he was fired, he had only three left

So he thought a career change was due

He hired himself out with a crew heading west

And now I'm singing his tale to you.

"Oh, Bob, oh, Bob, the three toed Yankee cook

Your stew is a legend and myth

We all love you so but what we wants to know

Is what do you hold your stew pots with?!?"

©by Voo

Oct 07

Cowboy Harmonica