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Show GROW UP Climbin' down from a broncy colt, I was filled with the thrills of each big jolt. Then through the gate my wife said to me, "When you grow up, what are you gonna be?" Now, I've had a number of jobs till now. It's not as if I don't know how. I've tried most every honest occupation, And always maintained a good relation. It's not as if I'm weak and lazy, But some kinda work just drives me crazy. I've worked in big cities pumpin' gas, To me that work just has no class. I've worked on farms of all descriptions, Sloppin' hogs and feedin' chickens. Drivin' tractors and pullin' plows. Shovelin' ditches and milkin' cows. I've spent my time in offices, too. Writin' reports like the rest of the crew. But all you get is a broad behind, And an oversized belt you never can find. Now that I've tried a number of jobs, And worked with some lazy slobs, I know that these broncs are the things for me, For working with them takes a man you see. Mac McArthur ^ W < ^ ^ Y U , VYlc-UrHuM^ 102 Cowboy Poetry From Utah |