My Wife’s Horse

My wife she has a quarter horse, with flaxen mane and tail.

She thinks he is the finest thing that ever jogged the rail.

She calls him Dandy Darling, and if the truth I tell,

that fancy pampered quarter horse has made my life pure hell.

My wife she used to cook for ME and serve it with champagne.

Now she'd rather feed that horse and fix his special grain.

She rides him every morning and grooms him half the night.

The last time that she kissed ME it was just to be polite.

He dresses better then I do, with matching wraps and ties,

my wardrobe's so neglected now that I attract the flies.

One day my wife was shopping , she was down at the mall,

and fancy pampered DANDY was just standing in his stall.

He looked so smug and sassy, that I began to grin,

I'd saddle that fat sucker, and take him for a spin.

I've wondered since if cues I gave, he might have misconstrued,

for when I climbed aboard that horse, he rightly came UNGLUED.

He bucked and spun, and snorted fire, and threw me through the fence,

saw big stars and there are teeth that I ain't heard from since.

My wife came home and saw me, just lying in the dirt.

She rushed up to her HORSE and asked him, "sweetheart are you HURT?"

He's scratched his nose a little bit, and the memory galls me yet.