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The Horse Husband's Lament

My wife, she has a Quarter Horse, with flaxen mane and tail.
She thinks he is the finest thing that ever jogged a 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 she kissed me, it was just to be polite.
He dresses better than I do, with matching wraps and ties,
My wardrobe's so neglected now that I attract the flies.
One day my wife was shopping, down at the nearby mall,
And fancy pampered Dandy was just standing in his stall.
He looked so smug and sassy, that I couldn't help but grin,
I'd saddle that fat sucker, and take him for a spin.
I've wondered since if cues I gave, he might've misconstrued,
For when I climbed aboard that horse, he rightly came unglued.
He bucked and spun, and snorted fire, And threw me through a fence,
I 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'd scratched his nose a little bit-the memory galls me yet,
She left me lying in the mud, and ran to call the vet!