Under Hoof

Grampa said to me one day
For a cheap hat I should pay.
One without the fancy trim,
Jus’ one with a solid brim.

I should’a listened to Grampa,
An’ through his eyes what he saw.
But given my youthful age
I didn’t hear the wise ol’ sage.

Workin’ hard to dally ’round,
Bringin’ cow-brutes to the ground.
And my, how the dust does fly
Stingin’ even the bravest eye.

But the saddest thing I know
Is havin’ to reap what I sow.
An’ this tear’s jus’ the proof
When my fancy hat’s under hoof.

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