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In a Village called Snowmass, where they love rodeo,
A bull named Sauce Boss was the star of the show.
He traveled each week with broncs in a pack,
To toss cowboys off of his broad, spotted back.
But Sauce Boss was different–more sweet than bold,
A honey sauce type with a heart made of gold.
Not zesty or kicky, not spicy or hot–
Just mellow and gentle (until he was not).
This rodeo pro had a fierce buck-and-throw,
But he’d rather sniff flowers than put on a “whoa!”
When he came to Snowmass he smelled the sweet air
And thought, It’s so lovely–I want to stay there.
Unloading the herd, the crew missed a small space–
And Sauce Boss slipped through with a grin on his face.
He took this sweet chance, by the horns, so to say,
And ran through the Village to frolic and play.
He pranced through petunias, he strolled past the park,
He tiptoed through sprinklers, made all the dogs bark.
He found a big meadow, rolled belly-up wide,
The snoozed like a log where the butterflies glide.
The cowboys rode out with lassos held high,
With police on the ground and drones in the sky.
And they did catch the bull! Gave a shout, “What a win!”
But a downpour began–and Sauce slipped again.
“No bull,” said the sheriff, “He’s a tough one to get.
But it ain’t our first rodeo–we’ll bring him in yet.”
Five days of hiding in forests and fields,
Using clovers for pillows and aspens for shields.
Sauce made no trouble, but he missed his old crew,
So he found his old cowboy, ’twas the right thing to do.
Now at the rodeo, he gives a good show…
But his heart is still up where the columbines grow.
Up in the stands, fans whistle and cheer:
“Sauce Boss!” they holler. “We’re glad you’re back here!”
So now when you see him, just give him a smile,
The bull with a dream of flowers for miles.
A legend, a wanderer, a sweet meadow boss.
A bull who loves Snowmass. The Boss known as Sauce.