Bad Science Fiction
© Greg Keeler 1987

Montana Banana Belt Cowboy

I'm a Montana banana belt, Theodore Roosevelt,
Rough ridin' quiche eatin' cowboy.
I'm a rounder of means, and I wear L.L. Bean's
Where's that telex machine anyhow boys?
I've looked everywhere, an' I can't find a Barron's.
I've got to check in on the Dow boys.
I'd swear before dark that there'll be a bull market.
I've got to by Exxon right now boys.

I jog in my Walkman then walk to the sun-tanning
Booth the first month of each winter.
It's Key West for starters, then Puerta Vallarta.
Montana can freeze you to splinters.
Now I'm off to Jamaica. Who says you can't make a
Silk purse from the ear of a sow boys.
A tough live yessiree, but someone's got to be
A Montana banana belt cowboy.

To stay hale and hearty at wine and cheese parties,
I skip wine and drink Perrier water.
I try to stay trim on my Nordic Flex gym
And chase girls the same age as my daughter.
Yes I prowl the fern bars and I deal in fast cars.
My Ferarri is really a wow boys.
It cost ninety grand, and it sets off the tan
On Montana banana belt cowboys.

I sit on my sun deck and glance at my Rolex.
The truck should pull up any minute.
U-Rent A Safari will unload my quarry.
I'll shoot it. They'll gut it and skin it.
It's five thousand at least just to shoot threatened species.
I've paid for this moment and how boys.
A tough live yessiree, but someone's got to be
A Montana banana belt cowboy.