... that 25 years ago (2001), in a central-Nevada town, we sat around the campfire after a day in the saddle, and recited some poetry. Mostly free-verse, as cowboys don't do much in iambic pentameter. Or perhaps an off-the-cuff limerick --

There once was a lady from Elko,
Her pedigree was dubious and shaky though,
A saloon was her home,
And she's not one to roam,
Many's a cowboy who she's commanded to "Whoa!"

Also: I never did see that red lion prowling around.