By Joe Kreger
It's always a reminder
'bout the weight you need to lose
when you bend over in the mornin'
to buckle your overshoes.
This feat is usually accomplished
'midst groans and grunts and sighs.
You get kinda short of oxygen.
Spots flash before your eyes.
I enjoy cakin' cattle.
I don't mind feedin' hay.
But, bucklin up my overshoes
is the worst job of the day.
I didn't used to mind it,
back when I was fit as a fiddle.
But, now I don't bend quite as good,
especially around the middle.
'Cause it seems that when my belly
gets shoved up about three rungs,
I run short of capacity
to operate my lungs.
Once in a while, I can get it done,
but it's becomin' kinda rare
that I get a boot plumb buckled up
without comin' up for air.
I got to do something about it.
Can't put up with it any more.
Guess I'll trade my five buckle boots
for some that's just got four.
Editor's note: Joe Kreger writes from his home in Tonkawa, Oklahoma. His CDs are available from the Journal by calling 1-800-954-5263.