SS: THE LIVES OF THE COWBOYS... brought to you by Waterford Purifying tablets. Just drop two Waterford tablets (PLOP, PLOP, FIZZ) into any water, no matter how disgusting, and it becomes drinkable. Waterford can't get rid of the dirt, the scum, the mosquito eggs, the decaying animal matter, but at least it won't kill you. Now, let's rejoin Dusty and Lefty for another exciting adventure.
GK: Well, Dusty, judging by the smell of cooking, I'd say we were drawing near to Seattle. I detect saffron and mint and oregano and other spices seldom found in Republican neighborhoods.
TR: I don't care about gourmet cooking, Lefty. I just want to find me a saloon where a man can drink and not be pestered by liberals.
GK: Oh, nobody's going to keep you from drinking.
TR: You never know with liberals. They put up warning signs saying that alcohol is likely to make you confused.
GK: Awww----
TR: Dang liberals trying to turn the world into a Montessori.
GK: Time we start focusing on how we get these cattle to go into the city.
TR: What do you mean? We get them to go by whooping and yelling at em and hitting em with our lassos.
GK: Can't do that. We're getting a premium price for these longhorns as free-range cattle.
TR: Oh. I forgot.
GK: Free-range means we gotta make it look as if it was the cows' idea to come to Seattle. That they chose to be meat, after all the alternatives were pointed out to them. No cow is here against her will...
TR: How do we show that?
GK: We put it to a vote and we tell them, All in favor, swish your tails.
TR: Not what you'd call an informed electorate.
GK: Oh, they know about as much as most Republicans.
TR: Lefty, I'm not going to sit here and let you bash the Republican Party. It is the party of the true cowboy. The upholder of freedom. The defender of the right to spit.
GK: What makes you think that?
SS: (OFF) Okay. Hold it right there.
TR: Who's that?
SS: Cattle inspector. Gotta make sure your cows haven't been misused.
GK: Yes, ma'am.
SS: Don't call me ma'am or I'll be forced to tie you to a Douglas fir and slap you silly.
GK: Okay.
TR: These cows are not being misused, believe me. They get the best grass, the best water, and old Lefty here even sings em to sleep every night.
SS: Is that you?
GK: Yes.
SS: You're the singer?
GK: I am, yes.
SS: You don't look like a singer.
GK: Cattle prefer singers who don't wear gold chains and medallions or big poofy shirts and neckerchiefs.
SS: So what do you sing to em?
GK: Joni Mitchell. That's what they like.
SS: You? You sing Joni Mitchell?
GK: Of course. (GUITAR, SINGS)

Rows and floes of Holstein hair
And piles of cowpies everywhere.
And clouds of cowpies in the air,
I've looked at cows that way.
And often they are not much fun
They step on you, they weigh a ton
So many things I would have done
But cows got in my way
I've looked at cows from both sides now
From front and back and still somehow
It's their uniqueness I observe
I cannot see them as a herd.

SS: That is so beautiful. Well, I don't see any reason why I should be wasting your time with any more questions. Welcome to Seattle, gentlemen.
TR: I don't' care to be addressed as a gentleman.
SS: Sorry.
TR: I prefer to be addressed as You Gorgeous Hottie You. (BRIDGE)
TR: That was some real smooth talking, Lefty. I think that lady liked you.
GK: That wasn't a lady, Dusty. That was a real woman. A Seattle woman. Soccer player, software designer, mountain climber, social critic. She combines it all. Plus which----- well, never mind.
TR: Never mind what?
GK: You're a Republican, you wouldn't be interested in that sort of thing.
TR: Interested in what?
GK: Oh, just remembering a Seattle woman I ----- oh, never mind.
TR: You talking about (XX, XX) ----
GK: Yeah.
TR: And they're pretty good at (XX, XX)-----
GK: In my experience, yeah. Let's go.
GK: Here you go. A genuine saloon.
TR: The Busted Coffee Cup Saloon. Not bad. I smell bourbon and cheap cigars and those brands of perfume that proclaim a woman's low standards.
SS: (MADAME) Evening, boys. Welcome to the Busted Coffee Cup. What can I get for you?
TR: Just enjoying the whole ambulance of the place.
GK: Ambience. ----- Aren't you Cheryl?
SS (MADAME): Do I know you, mister?
GK: You don't remember me? It's Lefty.
SS (MADAME): Seattle is full of lefties, mister.
GK: You and I, we had a wonderful weekend out on an island----- a cabin out there ----
SS (MADAME): Must have been a lot of weekends ago.
GK: The sea and the sunset and a million stars singing us to sleep.
SS: (MADAME) What can I get for you? A bottle of rotgut whiskey?
TR: You spelled that right, ma'am.
SS: (MADAME) We also got a rotgut Cabernet if you're of the wine persuasion.
TR: I don't drink wine, ma'am. I believe that it makes men sensitive.
SS: (MADAME) What brings you boys to Redmond?
TR: We were walking a few thousand pounds of prime rib across Idaho and eastern Washington.
GK: Yup. Just delivered the lot of them to the Transitional Residence for Bovines.
SS: (MADAME) Took em to the slaughterhouse, huh? Well, here's your rotgut. (POURING) How about you, Mr. Lefty?
GK: You wouldn't happen to have a beer from a nice microbrewery?
SS (MADAME): All beer has microbes in it.
GK: Right, what I wanted----
SS (MADAME): That's what ferments it. Microbes.
GK: I realize that.
SS (MADAME): Yeast. Full of microbes.
GK: Right. What I said was----
SS (MADAME): It's a chemical action. Fermentation. I'm surprised you didn't know that.
GK: I'll have a beer, if you've got it.
SS (MADAME): How about a Moose Tail Ale?
SS (MADAME): You care for a slice of lime with that?
GK: No thanks.
SS (MADAME): Good, we don't have any.
GK: So how's business, Cheryl?
SS: (MADAME) Could be worse. How about you?
TR: It's worse.
GK: We're the last of the dinosaurs. Only cowboys who never got the message that the trail drive is all done. Couple of museum pieces.
SS (MADAME): Welcome to the club. This is the last lowdown saloon in Seattle.
TR: No wonder it took us so long to find you.
SS (MADAME): All the others, they opened up patios and put white linen on the tables and put out coasters.
TR: Coasters!
SS (MADAME): So you and me, we went to an island, huh?
GK: Yes, ma'am.
SS (MADAME): You weren't the one who could whistle out your belly button, were you?
GK: No. That wasn't me.
SS (MADAME): Were you the one who sang "San Antonio Rose" in Swedish?
GK: Nope.
SS (MADAME): But you are a singer right?
GK: I have sung on occasion.
TR: Oh no. Not now. Please. (GUITAR STRUM) I better drink faster----

Cows and big bow-wows and birds and knowing how to say the words,
Hurt and dirt and piles of turds, I've looked at cows that way.
But now my cows are acting strange, they moo when I sing Home On The Range,
Much is the same but something's changed with cowboys every day.
I've looked at cows from both sides now,
From left and right, and still somehow
The sight of them makes me feel small.
I really don't know cows at all.

SS (MADAME): You don't sing professionally, do you?
GK: No.
SS (MADAME): That's what I thought.
GK: We made camp up in Redmond, if you want to join us later---- we could build a fire, sing some songs-----
SS (MADAME): Sorry. I got a date to go fishing.
GK: Okay. Well. Good to see you, Cheryl. You're looking great.
SS (MADAME): You too.
SS: THE LIVES OF THE COWBOYS... brought to you by Barstucks coffee-flavored shoe polish. When you're on the trail and you need caffeine, just lick your boot.