Cowpokes and Poets Hat

Ol' cowboy Ed wasn't much use on the cattle drive. Real broody sorta feller, and mighty creepy at night round the campfire. He sure could turn a phrase though. Not sure what caused him to become ill...we just chalked it up to the dysentery. Buried him just outside Wichita clutching the last thing he ever scribbled:

Lo, my heart lies black
'Neath atmosphere so blue;
For I loathe each pitiful morning 
When I hear the cow moo.

By golly, I miss that weirdo.