Fifty-six

I ain’t plumb over the hill yet, 

but I’m crowdin’ the other side. 

My legs are gettin’ thinner, 

and my belly’s gettin’ wide.

My wind is gettin’ shorter, 

but my sight is gettin’ far. 

And my voice is gettin’ gruffer, 

and my hearin’ ain’t up to par.

I’m spendin’ more time a thinkin’ 

‘bout things back in the past. 

My walk is gettin’ slower, 

but my pulse is gettin’ fast.

I think it’ll be a long time 

before they put me in the grave. 

But, I keep on countin’ wrinkles 

in the mirror when I shave.

I’m wonderin’ how those feedsacks

picked up all that extra weight, 

and the horses are gettin’ taller 

and rougher in their gait.

It don’t seem like my ropin’ arm 

is what it used to be, 

and I interrupt my ridin’ 

by gettin’ off to pee.

My cowdog’s gettin’ aged, 

but I just can’t get up 

to all of the excitement 

of startin’ out a pup.

Oh, I can still hold up my end 

and put in a good long day. 

But crawlin’ out of bed next morn 

is when I start to pay.

I think I’m gettin’ wiser, 

but my memory ain’t the same. 

I recognize everybody, 

but I just can’t call their name.

New cow folks are gettin different, 

so I seek the old ones out,

and we set in speculatin’

if they know what it’s all about. 

I still keep my cow records

with a notebook and a pen. 

I guess I just got passed up

by this computer age we’re in.

I don’t understand the music 

that comes out on the air, 

and I wonder why country singers 

have adopted hippie hair.

But, some things are gettin’ better, 

like the stories that I tell. 

They kinda seem to grow with age, 

but I guess it’s just as well.

My son says he’s already heard ’em all,

so I change ‘em just a bit 

to help him endure another round 

of his old man’s worn-out wit.

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. For personal appearance information, call 1-816-550-6549.