©1992 by Susan Noyes Anderson

Take all yore shit and git clean off my land;
That hog I raised is better company.
At least he knows to let a feller be;
and plays a sucker straight, not underhand.
My butt could only buck beneath yore brand;
I’ve felt them spurs a-diggin’, chickadee.
There’d be no peace till I was on one knee
Proposin’ doggoned marriage, like you planned.
That’s it now. Adios, gal. Shoo, fly, shoo!
A man’s a man and oughta act the part.
There’s plenty other things I aim to do;
You ain’t about to spill my apple cart.
No highfalutin’ female like you
Will ever put a lock-up on my heart!