“Say, Cowboy,” [Iowa] comments a little wistfully, after Cowboy finishes the last verse, “I wish I could sing as well as you. I like to sing, but I know my voice ain’t worth much.”
Cowboy wipes sweat from his face and grins at him. “Brother, that doesn’t matter to the Lord. He loves hearin’ you sing, even if you sound like a dyin’ rooster stuck in a rusty barn door.”
“That’s what Rory sounds like,” Kelly pipes up with a smirk.
“Do not!” Rory objects, though he’s too lazy to stir from his sprawling position.
“Yes you do. I heard you and Reg together the other day. That’d be enough to scare off all the [Viet Cong] within a twenty-mile radius.”
Cowboy wipes sweat from his face and grins at him. “Brother, that doesn’t matter to the Lord. He loves hearin’ you sing, even if you sound like a dyin’ rooster stuck in a rusty barn door.”
“That’s what Rory sounds like,” Kelly pipes up with a smirk.
“Do not!” Rory objects, though he’s too lazy to stir from his sprawling position.
“Yes you do. I heard you and Reg together the other day. That’d be enough to scare off all the [Viet Cong] within a twenty-mile radius.”