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JOHNNY CARSON: [APPLAUSE] These two fellows you're going to meet are representatives of

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the annual gathering of the cowboy poets in Elko,

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Nevada, January the 29th through the 31st.

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You may not realize it, and I didn't until

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a few years ago, that poetry is part of the cowboy tradition.

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Every year, 50 or 60 of these poets gather together and put on a show.

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Tonight representing are Waddie Mitchell and Baxter Black.

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Gentlemen.

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[APPLAUSE]

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It's Waddie, right?

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WADDIE MITCHELL: Yeah.

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JOHNNY CARSON: Good to see you again. How are you?

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WADDIE MITCHELL: Just real good. Thanks.

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JOHNNY CARSON: Is this the second or third time you've been through this?

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WADDIE MITCHELL: Third time.

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JOHNNY CARSON: Third time and Baxter this is your first?

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BAXTER BLACK: Yes, sir.

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JOHNNY CARSON: Your first time out of the shoot.

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BAXTER BLACK: I'm proud to be here.

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JOHNNY CARSON: Yeah. [LAUGHTER] Does this thing get bigger every year?

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WADDIE MITCHELL: Seems to, yeah. We've gotten some nice press,

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and there's folks that are finding they like it and coming.

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JOHNNY CARSON: I want to ask you fellows who do cowboying for a living,

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how you feel about Hollywood's depiction of cowboys in motion pictures?

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WADDIE MITCHELL: Well, it's probably—I got a story about that if you want to hear that.

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JOHNNY CARSON: Yeah.

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WADDIE MITCHELL: Written by Gail Gardner.

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Says, I want to tell you a sad, sad

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story of how a cowboy fell from grace.

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Really, this is something awful,

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there never was a sadder case.

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One time I had myself a partner.

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I never known one half so good.

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We throwed our outfits in together and lived the way the cowboys should.

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He savvied all about wild cattle and was handy with a rope and for gentle well-reined pony,

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just give me one he'd broke.

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He never owned the clothes but Levis and he wore them 'til they slick.

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Never worn the great big Stetson because where we rode,

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the brush was thick.

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He never had no time for women,

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so bashful and shy was he,

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but then he'd know that they is poison,

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so he always let 'em be.

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[LAUGHTER] Well, he went to work on distant ranges and I hadn't seen him for a year,

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but then I had no cause to worry.

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I know someday he'd appear.

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Well, I just rode in from the mountains feeling good and stepping light.

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I just sold on my yearlings, price was out of sight.

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But then I seen the sight so awful,

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it caused my joy to fade away.

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And fill my very soul with sorrow,

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I never will forget that day.

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Well down the street there came a-tripping my old-time pardner

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as of yore and although, I know you won't believe me.

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Let me tell you what he wore.

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He had his boots outside his britches.

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They was made of leather green and red.

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His shirt was of a dozen colors loud enough to wake the dead.

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[LAUGHTER] Around his neck, he had a kerchief knotted through a silver ring.

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I swear to God, he had a wristwatch.

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Who'd ever heard of such a thing? Says I,

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"Old Scout, what's your trouble?

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Looks like you been eating loco weed.

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If you'd tell me how to help you,

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I'll get you anything you need."

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Well, he looked at me for half a minute, then began to bawl.

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He said, "Bear with me while I tell you what made me take this awful fall.

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It was a woman from Chicago.

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She put that Injun sign on me.

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She said that I was handsome,

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as a man can be.

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I'm afraid there's nothing you can do to save my hide.

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I'm wrangling dudes instead of cattle. I'm what they call a first-class guide.

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I saddle's up their pump-tailed ponies,

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fix their stirrups for them too.

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I boost them up into the saddle.

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They give me tips when I'm through.

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Just like horses eating loco,

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I couldn't quit, even if I tried.

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I reckon I'll wrangle dudes forever til the day that I shall die."

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Well, I drawed my gun and throwed it on him.

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I had to turn my face away,

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but I shot him squarely through the middle and where he fell, I left him lay.

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[LAUGHTER] I hated for to do it,

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but what I'd done, you can't recall,

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but when a cowboy turns dude wrangler,

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he ain't no good no more at all. [APPLAUSE]

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JOHNNY CARSON: That's good Waddie. [APPLAUSE] You see,

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Bob, why do you remember that whole poem?

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[LAUGHTER] No problem at all.

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Now, Baxter, I understand you started out as a veterinarian. Is that correct?

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BAXTER BLACK: Yes, sir.

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JOHNNY CARSON: Now you perform frequently?

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BAXTER BLACK: Well, I wound up doing this cowboy poetry for a living.

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I go to big places like Buffalo, Wyoming.

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JOHNNY CARSON: Yeah. [LAUGHTER]

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BAXTER BLACK: I'm going to be in Sioux Center, Iowa Saturday night.

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JOHNNY CARSON: Sioux Center, Iowa. Good.

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[APPLAUSE] Do you want to give us a little sample?

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BAXTER BLACK: Well, there's traditional cowboy poetry and then there's a lunatic fringe,

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which is my area.

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[LAUGHTER] I might wind up standing up.

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JOHNNY CARSON: That's okay, sure. We'll follow you.

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BAXTER BLACK: Is this plastic?

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JOHNNY CARSON: Yeah, well, you can move that out way if you want to. [LAUGHTER]

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BAXTER BLACK: Now, cowboys and vegetarians don't necessarily always see eye to eye.

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I mean, I'm in the cow business.

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JOHNNY CARSON: Sure.

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BAXTER BLACK: I found out the other day that they had done some studies and it

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turns out that they found that plants feel pain. Pain.

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JOHNNY CARSON: Well, I didn't know that.

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BAXTER BLACK: Yes. [LAUGHTER] That inspired this little piece entitled The Vegetarian's Nightmare.

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Or a dissertation on plants' rights.

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Brocolli power!

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Ladies and diners, I make you a shameful degrading confession.

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A deed of disgrace in the name of good taste,

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though I did it, I meant no aggression.

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I had planted a garden last April and lovingly sang it a ballad.

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But later in June beneath the full moon, forgive me,

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I wanted a salad.

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[LAUGHTER] So I slipped out and fondled a carrot,

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caressing its feathery top.

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With the force of a brute,

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I tore out the root! And it whimpered and came with a pop.

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[LAUGHTER] Then laying my hand on a radish,

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I jerked [POPPING SOUND] and it left a small crater.

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Then with the blade of my True Value spade,

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[LAUGHTER] I exhumed a slumbering tater. [LAUGHTER] Celery I plucked,

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I twisted a squash!

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Tomatoes were wincing in fear!

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[LAUGHTER] I choked the Romaine,

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it screamed out in pain.

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Their anguish was filling my ears!

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I finally came to the lettuce.

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As it cringed at the top of the row. [SQUEAKING SOUND]

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[LAUGHTER] With one wicked slice,

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I beheaded it twice, as it writhed,

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I dealt a death blow.

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[LAUGHTER] I butchered the onions and parsley,

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though my hoe was all covered with gore.

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I chopped and I whacked without looking back,

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then I stealthily slipped in the door.

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My bounty lay naked and dying,

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so I drowned them to snuff out their life.

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I sliced and I peeled, as they thrashed,

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and they reeled on the cutting board under my knife.

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[LAUGHTER] I violated tomatoes,

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[LAUGHTER] so their innards could never survive.

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I grated and ground 'til they made not a sound,

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then I boiled the tater alive.

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[LAUGHTER] Then I took

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the small broken pieces I had tortured and killed with my hands and tossed them together,

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heedless of whether they suffered or made their demands. I ate them.

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Forgive me, I'm sorry.

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But hear me, though I'm a beginner,

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those plants feel pain.

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Though it's hard to explain to someone who eats them for dinner.

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I intend to begin a crusade for plants' rights,

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including chickpeas, and the ACLU will be helping me too.

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In the meantime, please pass the blue cheese. [LAUGHTER]

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JOHNNY CARSON: Very good. Thank you Baxter.

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We'll be back. Good stuff.