Old Bulls


If our wives had picked their husbands 

with the care we buy a bull

There’d be a lot more bachelors on the street.

We’d be bucked up in the willers

with the other mossy horns

Just waitin’ for a straggler still in heat.

 

They would check us all as yearlin’s 

on the lookout for bad eyes

And notice how we traveled in the rocks

But thank goodness we weren’t cattle ‘cause a lot of us sneaked by

Nearsighted, deaf and showin’ sickle hocks.

 

If they’d marched us through the sale ring 

as she sat there in the crowd

And studied us and read our pedigree

Could she see we might get paunchy and the highest grade we got

In heifer satisfaction was a ‘C’?

 

Would it make her any difference

if she knew we’d lose our teeth

And slough our hair and let our toes grow long?

Would her herd sire valuation 

be affected by the fact

When we were born they used a come-along?

 

And our famed yearlin’ libido

she’d observed when we were young

A’crackin’ horns and tearin’ up the ground

Now occurred about as often

as a paid bank holiday.

Could she know then we’d all wind up unsound?

 

‘Course, we tell ourselves she’s lucky

to have had a private bull

For all these years, through all the ups and downs

But, down deep each cowman’s thankful that he curled his lip just right

Before she had more time to shop around.


Video News
More In Home