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Rusty Richard David O’Flanagan
had a twin brother name Dusty
together the two ran a barbecue pit
that was lovingly nicknamed Crusty’s. 

When Rusty and Dusty were freckle-faced kids
they lived on the family ranch,
they worked and played in the fresh mowed hay,
and shot rustlers at every chance.

The steers were the outlaws, and they were the famous
Marshalls dressed in white hats;
their six-shooters saved the day more than once,
and their victims were sometimes the cats. 

They grew up like cowboys generally do,
mending fences and herding the cows;
in the wide open spaces they mastered their ropes,
and imagined life years from now.

But Rusty and Dusty were soon to find out
that ranches are not here forever.
The city can claim any land that they want,
when Uncle Sam approves the endeavor. 

Daddy was crushed when they tore down his pens,
and the pastures became parking lots;
the wide open range full of sweet-grass and dogies
was soon growing city snots.

Rusty and Dusty were more or less grown
so they loaded the pickup and left,
and followed the rodeos from town to town
in what used to be the great Out West.

They laughed and they sang, they rode and they roped,
and they drank and charmed all the girls,
but feared in their hearts that the Old West was gone;
Daddy’s legacy would never unfurl.

One day they found a new calling, when watching
a youngster get bucked off and hurt.
His life was in mortal danger – that bull
had zeroed in on that boys’ shirt.

Rusty grabbed Dusty, and together they leapt
o’er the fence, and headed it off;
all those years dodging ornery dogies
were now paying handsomely off. 

Rusty ran straight at the powerful bull
then twisted and turned right around,
and there was Dusty grabbing its horn,
and running for safer ground.

Their antics were cheered as the crowd laughed and roared
thinking this was all part of the show.
But the medics had time now to get out their gear,
and load up that youngster and go.

So the quick-thinking pair saved a life that day,
and birthed a brand new career,
As rodeo clowns they worked and they played,
and grinned to the sound of the cheers.

But clowns get old, too, and there’s got to be more
than the rodeo to fund your old age,
sooner or later your body gets tired,
and the boys were nearing that stage.

If there’s anything else a true cowboy loves,
it’s a fire and a barbecue pit,
so Rusty and Dusty found a ramshackle barn,
and started to renovate it.

They could cook, those two, on an open fire,
and the rodeo crowd couldn’t wait.
When Crusty’s opened on the fourth of July,
they were there – holding their plates.

Their campfire reigned in the middle of the barn,
with tables and benches around,
urns held coffee and lemonade,
and sawdust covered the ground.

A kitchen was built with counters galore
that held biscuits and coleslaw and such,
and the great double doors were left open, so stars
were almost near enough to touch.

Rusty recited a poem he wrote
that got laughs from quite a few,
and Dusty invited a crippled old cowboy
to tell them a story or two.

Before long it got to be a nightly thing,
and folks came from miles around
to listen to cowboy poetry,
and eat the best range food in town.

Yeah, Rusty and Dusty had found a good way
to continue the legacy
of cowboys and laughter, good food and fun,
that they’d known at their daddy’s knee.

It just goes to show that the talents you learn
as a youngster might be the right road,
and that clowning can not only save a man’s life,
but make sure the old stories get told.