Now Pa and me, we’ve been a pair for fifty years come calvin’.
We made our nest and had our kids, and they’re both sure worth havin’,
But them ol’ cows, they’re ALWAYS first when they start havin’ babies.
Through snow and chills, they pay the bills. No if’s, and’s, but’s or maybe’s.
It’s always been a pile of work, but somehow we wade through it.
No use puttin’ off the task ’cause no one else will do it.
Slippery, slimy, bawlin’ calves; feedin’, beddin’, spyin’,
An’ all to keep them little souls from curlin’ up an dyin’.
But times have changed. We’re slowin’ down, and so is our old collie.
She limps along beside us now, and she’s gettin’ roly-poly.
She likes to ride (on the passenger side) of our old green chore truck.
But she needs a boost to reach her roost. If she jumps she runs amuck.
One mornin’ light when the sun rose bright, Pa went to do the checkin’.
I stayed home to hear the phone, and keep our meal from wreckin’.
In minutes flat my man was back. His jaw was just a flappin’.
“Get the dog. Ya know that draw? You’ll never guess what happened!”
That ol’ cow, wide horns o’er brow, stood head up, oh so regal.
Such a queenly stance could only enhance her eyes that looked like an eagle.
For on the ground was easily found, the cause of all this disorder.
Not one, but two; Oh yes it was true. There was one extra boarder!
What to do next? Well, Pa was vexed, ’cause one calf he ain’t been suckin’.
To carry ’im home, just us ’ns alone we couldn’t be doin’ it truckin’.
The hill was too steep, too slippery an’ sleek, the pick-up would just be slidin’.
Well, let’s get wise. Let’s improvise. A new way we’ll find to be ridin’.
Now I said before, life is a chore for us both now we’re nigh on pension,
To jump out of bed, makes our bones tell our heads, that our nerves are under some tension.
And you can be sure that our own special cure for the problem at hand was a dilly.
To risk bein’ seen by a neighbor so keen, would at least make us look pretty silly.
So the dog on the limp, and Pa on the gimp, and me with one shoulder a hangin’,
With the cow in tow, away we did go! The twins were both bumpin’ an’ bangin’.
The transport we chose had ended our woes, though it shook the poor calves to the marrow.
The decision we made for the plans that we laid was to get out the garden wheelbarrow!
~ Kathleen Smith
