Deep in the heart of Dallas Fort Worth
Lived the fastest cowpoke in all of the Earth.
Zebedee Zoom was snappy and stealthy.
It kept him sharp, and it kept him healthy.
Whenever a job had to be done,
Everyone knew that old Zeb was the one.
Yes, Zoom was the man—he was faster than fast!
He got things done before a moment had passed.
He’d wake up the instant the alarm bell had rung.
And his breakfast was gone without touching his tongue.
He dressed in a flash, used his toothbrush and comb,
And herded every last herd before the cows could come home.
He talked much faster than anyone else could.
Then rushed off, before he could be understood.
Zoom’s quick-draw was smooth, and it kept getting slicker.
No one messed with him; there was nobody quicker.
One day as old Zebedee went rushing past,
A voice yelled “Whoa, Cowboy! Don’t go so fast!”
“Slow down, old cowpoke—mosey and amble,
No need to rush, try a drawl and a ramble.”
The fellow that spoke was an ordinary guy,
But Zebedee listened; I can’t tell you why.
When I say he slowed down, well, he REALLY slowed down.
Zebedee Zoom became the slowest man in the town.
He’d have breakfast at two, at the Café De La Banquet.
And his coffee would be cold by the time that he drank it.
His drawl was so slow, it was torture! It was boring!
When he finished a sentence, most folks would be snoring.
It was really quite sad, what Zebedee Zoom had become.
He couldn’t be counted on to get anything done.
And his quick-draw? Forget it. He had no more speed.
It was painful to watch him, very painful indeed.
Then came the time one sad afternoon.
When things didn’t work out well for Zebedee Zoom.
Big Bad Bart Burly came to Dallas to eat.
He growled at Zoom, “You! Get out of my seat!”
Now naturally, old Zeb moved with no hint of haste.
And that just wasn’t quick enough for Big Bad Bart’s taste.
“I’ve had it with you!” everyone heard Burly shout.
“You and me outside, right now, and we’ll have it out!”
Three hours later, Zeb had moved 50 feet,
To meet Big Bad Bart Burly in the middle of the street.
Everyone felt bad for Zebedee Zoom
For they knew that this shootout would be the old slowpoke’s doom.
Burly said “Listen! I’ll count to three, and we’ll draw.”
The crowd knew what was coming, and they all said “Awww.”
Sure enough, three seconds later, Zeb was filled with lead.
From his boots, to his vest, to the hat on his head.
He was flat on his back staring up at the sun.
And he hadn’t even halfway unholstered his gun.
The townsfolk scraped poor old Zeb up off of the road.
He had one last request: Apple pie, a la mode.
The whole town shut down so the folks could all grieve,
But the end of the tale is quite hard to believe.
It took Zebedee Zoom 896 years, 7 months, a week, 4 days, 9 hours, and 37 minutes to die.
And I can’t even begin to add up all the pie.
This is the part of the story, you’ve probably been guessin’,
Where you find out the tale of old Zoom had a lesson.
Things need to get done: Sometimes fast, sometimes slow.
But only you know at what speed you should go.
So, just keep on moving, choose your own pace,
And don’t always listen to what everyone says.
Just do what you do, and do what you should.
And have pie with ice cream – it’s really quite good!
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