I call this one "Big Trouble". It's going to Trailside galleries' "The Twelve Artists of Christmas" miniature show in Scottsdale, AZ. The man in the painting is one of the nicest people you'd ever have the pleasure to meet. I've been threatening to paint him for years now. I have some great reference of him with his smiling face, but couldn't resist painting his game face first. Thanks Bob!
After sharing "Big Trouble" on Facebook and Instagram, cowboy poet Andy Carr wrote this poem. I am honored to share it with Andy's permission.
Big Trouble
His friends all scattered like a covey o' quail, th' look on his face bordered on hate, Gone was his ever present jovial big smile, th' fire in his eyes tellin' someone's fate.
Th' core of his body had gone completely rigid, both arms swingin' loosely by his side, His snow white moustache an' neat grayin' hair, showed his years an' his personal pride.
"Boy,,,,You are in big trouble" he said t' th' kid, "It's not smart for you to call my hand", His hazel eyes narrowed into thin slits o' ice, he pointed t' th' kid's horse's brand.
"If you are any kind o' friends with th' Almighty, ya might start sendin' some pleas up that way", "Askin' for some quick divine intervention, before we send your soul on it's way."
"Around here horse thieves all swing in th' breeze, you'll be joinin' 'em here real quick," " 'less you can come out with an alibi real soon, your outlaw friends gonna see you kick."
"No words,,,,,,okay that's just fine, ownin' up to it like a real man", "Your time on earth will be shortly done, you killed two o' my men as you ran."
I call this one "Big Trouble". It's going to Trailside galleries' "The Twelve Artists of Christmas" miniature show in Scottsdale, AZ. The man in the painting is one of the nicest people you'd ever have the pleasure to meet. I've been threatening to paint him for years now. I have some great reference of him with his smiling face, but couldn't resist painting his game face first. Thanks Bob!
After sharing "Big Trouble" on Facebook and Instagram, cowboy poet Andy Carr wrote this poem. I am honored to share it with Andy's permission.
Big Trouble
His friends all scattered like a covey o' quail, th' look on his face bordered on hate,
Gone was his ever present jovial big smile, th' fire in his eyes tellin' someone's fate.
Th' core of his body had gone completely rigid, both arms swingin' loosely by his side,
His snow white moustache an' neat grayin' hair, showed his years an' his personal pride.
"Boy,,,,You are in big trouble" he said t' th' kid,
"It's not smart for you to call my hand",
His hazel eyes narrowed into thin slits o' ice, he pointed t' th' kid's horse's brand.
"If you are any kind o' friends with th' Almighty, ya might start sendin' some pleas up that way",
"Askin' for some quick divine intervention, before we send your soul on it's way."
"Around here horse thieves all swing in th' breeze, you'll be joinin' 'em here real quick,"
" 'less you can come out with an alibi real soon, your outlaw friends gonna see you kick."
"No words,,,,,,okay that's just fine, ownin' up to it like a real man",
"Your time on earth will be shortly done, you killed two o' my men as you ran."
© Copyright 10/31/17 Andy G. Carr