Things That Get my Goat

Everyone has a story of their
favorite things to tell
but nobody likes to talk about the things
that make them mad as hell

So here are a few of the things
that really get me pissed
I know that you can probably
add a few things to this list

I hate weeds among my garden flowers
that have roots ten feet long
People who sing at the top of their voice
but don’t know the words to the song

Folks that take an hour just to tell me
something that could be said in two words
Groundhogs that live under the shed
the frickin neighbor’s cat that kills my birds

Standing in line at the grocery store while
someone goes back for an item they forgot
or waiting fifteen minutes for a price check
on something that they bought

The outrageous prices of milk, bread, gas and beer
the things any civilized person can’t live without
The smell of a wet dog after a walk in the rain
People talking on phones and think they have to shout

How bout the stupid dog that won’t stop barking
though there’s absolutely nothing to bark about
White cat hair on black clothes and I don’t own a cat
A new shirt ruined because a stain won’t come out

A tuft of hair that just refuses to stay in place
Socks that keep falling down to wrinkle under my toes
Road construction signs and no workers within sight
That wild white hair that keeps tickling my nose

Wasps, hornets, bees, spiders and snakes
that jump right out of nowhere it seems
Being woken up by the doorbell
Just as I get to the good part of the dream

A Mouse in the House

I walked into my closet last week
dressed in naught but socks and underwear
I bent over to pick up my boots
Surprise– a furry creature was there

So I yelped and jumped back a few steps
I’ll say he nearly scared me to death
I flung my right work boot at him
after I had finally caught my breath

Well I missed him by a country mile
and he quickly scampered out the door
That’s when I took aim with my left boot
it thumped and skidded across the floor

I chased it round and round the kitchen
by now I’d armed myself with a broom
I swiped at it Wayne Gretsky style
sent it flying to the dining room

By now the dog had joined in the chase
we were set to show this mouse his tomb
When he ran into my wife’s office
while she was in a meeting on Zoom

Somehow I managed a screeching halt
No view of my boxers or the mouse
But my angry wife has banished me
from playing mouse hockey in the house

As for the mouse I have not a clue
just where he disappeared to that day
I hope he went home and told his kids
it was too crazy for him to stay

~ A Rancher’s Wife…

She’s up in the morning
two hours before dawn
has done most of her chores
before the lights come on

Already milked the cows
and gathered up the eggs
even put liniment
on the horse’s sore legs

Bacon and eggs are cooked
the biscuits are baked brown
the gravy has been stirred
and the plates laid down

Once the pans are empty
the last bread’s been buttered
the men tack their horses
while she clears the clutter

Now a fifty mile drive
just to get to the store
to pick up the supplies
they have been waiting for

Time to fry the chicken
and put beef in the beans
cause stomachs on the ranch
are never full it seems

After serving the meal
and cleaning up the mess
she’ll ride out to the range
and work beside the rest

She has to be able
to ride fence, rope and brand
just as good as any
of those other hired hands

When the day is over
tired and hungry as hell
the men wash up and get
set for the supper bell

She’ll be in the kitchen
cooking vittles again
Cause work for a ranch wife
never comes to an end

~ Hey Boomers ~

What will we do now that we’ve reached Gen Z
will we have to do like hurricanes do
give them names like Alpha, Beta and Gamma
or perhaps just Roman Numeral I and II

Shall we call the new babies Gen Trump
or perhaps Gen Pandemic or Gen Covid
or do we just let them live out their lives
like long ago generations did

You see, I don’t recall Gen Caveman
or Gen Industrial Age
and they seemed to have made it just fine
without the help of some superfluous adage

I wonder why we started naming ourselves
are the children so ashamed of their parents
perhaps afraid they won’t be able to overcome
the terms of their inheritance