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,
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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.