Buzzards in the Road.

By Bronco T


Well I raced down the road, with nary a care,
When I had occasion to suffer, a most powerful scare.

For there in the road, five buzzards did sit, A gnawin’ the rabbit, on which they had lit.

The first four was quick, fer they heard my horn,
But the last one he was the dumbest bird born.

Well I sashayed the wheel, as the brake I did slam,
Spun out of control, and into a jam.

But ol’ buzzard, just sat there alone,
A munchin’ away, on a flat rabbit bone.

While back in my truck, things got real tense,
As my ol’ rocket sled, slid right into the fence.

Posts went ta flyin’, stretched wires went snap,
And the windshield arrived, right there in my lap.

Well I cussed ta myself, as we slid to a stop,
Me on my head, my truck on its top.

‘cause that’s when I seen ‘im, out the corner of one eye,
That sorry ol’ buzzard, as he flapped towards the sky.

And I thought of a moral, as I lay upside down, A feelin’ real helpless, with my nose on the groun’.

If I have occasion to make, this choice agin’,
Against that ol’ buzzard, I reckon I’ll sin.

‘cause instead of sufferin’, these abrasions and cuts,
The next time…..I’d rather smell ol’ buzzard guts.


Every day when I would travel to work in Lordsburg from my home in Cotton City, New Mexico, I would see a group of five buzzards sittin’ in the middle of the road near the Valley View Baptist Church. I would start honking my horn when I got about a quarter mile away from them, and four of them would fly off, but the fifth one must have been real old and deaf because he would never fly until I was almost on top of him. Then one day there were only four left, so I suppose he was hit by a car or died of old age. Kinda miss ‘im.