Ode to Twist

By Stick


Oliver was the name his ma’am gave when he was born,
But Twist was what friends called him on any frosty morn.
At six foot one in his stocking feet, he was quite a man,
Tho’ none need fear him ‘less they crossed the laws o’ the land.

As a boy he learned the things his Pa tried to teach,
And there wasn’t much he couldn’t do, not much beyond his reach
He tended sheep on the mountainside to help meet his families needs
But learned as well to share and help without any greed.

He had a way of talking that calmed both beast and man,
And both understood his words as clearly as you can.
It wasn’t long ‘til necessity caused him to learn much more,
And each new thing he learned helped expand his repertoire.

Lumberjack, rancher, farmer–these things were added on.
Butcher, cowboy, and locksmith--all joined his father’s son.
For a while he broke horses, for the Army and “Uncle Sam”,
And for many years he upheld the law as a Sheriff–a Lawman.

Decades he milked two cows, both morning and at night,
And if you came to him a-wanting, he was generous to your plight.
Now lest you think him perfect, there’s many who knew him well,
That could speak his faults if asked, but they’ll never tell.

It’s said he was a joker, whether on himself or someone new,
And could drop a man with an eight--inch punch, and end up his friend too.
He was the father of six children, and taught them right from wrong,
And he’d join right in the moment you wanted to sing a song.

Now he’s passed on, out of this land, and to the great beyond,
And left behind family and friends, of which he was fond.
But we still feel his presence, he’s watchin’ o’er us still,
With Velma by his side, and they always will.