The Pensioner
Ye’s an old wore out hoss and he’s standin’ there dozin’,
I reckon he’s thinkin’ or mebby supposin’,
He is once more a colt out along with others
And runnin’ around by the side of his mother.
Or he mebby remembers the day he was caught
And a saddle put on him, and oh how he fought.
But he give up and figgered that men was the boss,
And all he could do was to be a cow hoss.
But he finally got old, and he took a few spills
A comin’ down mountains or off the side hills.
He could no longer carry the weight that he did,
So they left him at home to be rode by the kids.
Then he got to the place where he really was through.
He is out in the paster with nothin’ to do.
He eats, sleeps and drinks, like a lot of old hands,
He stands there and thinks, and sometimes jest stands.
Bruce Kiskaddon
