THe mud, the mud, the stinking rain
buckets of it come down again
and slop around my wet cold boots
slick are the leaves and hidden roots
while horses mulch and mush and slop
and churn the poopy, stinking glop
with shovel I ditch, heave and try
to drain a spot and have it dry
but rain comes down and foot of horse
makes mud and slop and puddles worse.
My hair is splattered to my head
mascara runs in rivers dread
of blackened drizzle to my chin
to hell with this, I'm going in
and dripping by the kitchen sink
stiff black coffee I do drink.
Then girdled for more battle I
will wrangle with the furnace why
we don't buy oil I'll never know
I growl with each hard axen blow
the split wood flings left and right
but has no legs, it has no flight
so stiff and still it wooden lays
til gathered it is set ablaze.
Then on I shrug my sodden coat
soaked and heavy I do not float
more chores await me in the rain
like yesterday I do them again
tomorrow too, hail or shine
these endless chores are life of mine.
Not all is bad as I survey
the soggy lives that fill my day
the soaking horses who nuzzle and munch
chickens who peck and fluff and hunch
the dog with feet like filthy mops
even the cat comes by and stops
He yowls his yowl, so oddly mute
then pukes a mouse upon my boot.
buckets of it come down again
and slop around my wet cold boots
slick are the leaves and hidden roots
while horses mulch and mush and slop
and churn the poopy, stinking glop
with shovel I ditch, heave and try
to drain a spot and have it dry
but rain comes down and foot of horse
makes mud and slop and puddles worse.
My hair is splattered to my head
mascara runs in rivers dread
of blackened drizzle to my chin
to hell with this, I'm going in
and dripping by the kitchen sink
stiff black coffee I do drink.
Then girdled for more battle I
will wrangle with the furnace why
we don't buy oil I'll never know
I growl with each hard axen blow
the split wood flings left and right
but has no legs, it has no flight
so stiff and still it wooden lays
til gathered it is set ablaze.
Then on I shrug my sodden coat
soaked and heavy I do not float
more chores await me in the rain
like yesterday I do them again
tomorrow too, hail or shine
these endless chores are life of mine.
Not all is bad as I survey
the soggy lives that fill my day
the soaking horses who nuzzle and munch
chickens who peck and fluff and hunch
the dog with feet like filthy mops
even the cat comes by and stops
He yowls his yowl, so oddly mute
then pukes a mouse upon my boot.