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The Bumbling Bandits

Blazing Trails in the Frontier

The only way to find new horizons is to keep riding toward the setting sun.

In dust-choked towns where laughter fades,
The Bumbling Bandits made their raids.
With crooked grins and plans askew,
They chased their dreams, though none rang true.

With rickety horses and hats askew,
They plotted theft beneath skies so blue.
But tripping over their own two feet,
Their grand designs would end in defeat.

At high noons glare, their showdown waits,
Yet fumbling hands would seal their fates.
A rustled pouch, a tumble down,
And in a heap, they dashed through town.

So raise your glass to clumsy men,
Who ride the range and try again.
For in each failure, laughter’s found,
The heart of cowboy’s spirit, unbound.