THE WAY OF THE BOVINE

I woke up this morning with one swift kick,
The wife was screaming my name saying the cows are on the loose.
Damn cows they never seem to fail,
As my boots are half-assed on, shirt unbuttoned, there I flail.
Step out of the boot room and my hat flies as if equipped with sails.
Sometimes I wonder if I should quit, put my open dreams in the mail,
And send it to a lockbox where it can grow old and stale.
I pull my head out of the mud, button up my shirt,
I grab my hat off of the ground and wipe off all the dirt.
My eyes become unblurred as my focus hones in on the day,
And I whip and scream and holler until I gather all the stray cows,
In the hay yard ruining my day, all they wanted was some food,
Some fresh green tasty hay.
The little pricks no one can sort, they never seem to fail,
They always create a ruckus that leaves me with a tail to tell,
All of my friends and my family a story or a tale,
Of how I wouldn't let my ego or this memorandum fail.
The farm is for the tough, but you'll always see it through,
The one thing that will keep you going is under the lip a big fat chew,
To calm your nerves and fuel the blood full of nicotine.
For some reason this substance calms you down a notch or two,
Not proven, though it seems, torn between the pain and suffering of the day.
You could be in a tiny box in the city bored as hell and there to stay,
Captured in a concrete jungle with stray trash and McDonald's trays,
Strewn left and right, tripping over the mess on your way,
Trying to make it through the life in town day by day.
Not my thoughts of freedom, not in any way.
The smell of puke and stale beer that's always there to stay,
Now that we got that out of our minds, the city is very gray.
I'd rather sweat and cut my knuckles and bail up rounds of hay,
And stay on the farm and build the barn to capture all those cows,
So they don't decide to blow a fence while I'm busy fixing plows.
So when I'm tired and decide to rest I can wake up in the morning,
Without my wife kicking me awake with warning.
To think that this was just an act of sheer coincidence — it's not.
It's the way of the bovine making sure they don't make sense.
Their trickery is often lacking consistence,
But fails in no area which involves their lack of persistence.
I think a cow can push a human till he almost breaks.
It's the persistence of the animals — farmers are the result of what I described.
Giddy up cowboy, what are you going to do?
Slap your boots on, grab your hat, and chop a big fat chew.