Girl at the barn

The suns out shining,

I’m here grinding,

My ass off out in the sun.

Papa’s with the livestock,

I’m with the wheat and crops,

And momma’s inside on the phone with someone.

I put my shovel down just for one minute,

When something caught the attention of my eyes,

Walking t’ward the barn,

Was a young pretty girl with boots thigh high.

Now Momma always told me to be kind,

To strangers at the farm,

Pops taught me when I was 10,

To always act tough around new men

And to scare off all salesmen.

But nobody ever taught me how,

To greet a girl like this,

Kissable lips and perky … smile.

Damn, I’ve never met no girl like this.

She tip-toed on over to me and said something sweet and quiet.

I didn’t quite catch it, so I had to ask her,

“What’s your name, darling?”

She looked me up and down,

And just stood there for a while.

She said real slow,

So that I’d know,

Exactly what she’d said,

“Are you some kind of idiot then?”

I said “who are you to be talking to me,

Like I’m some punk on the street?

You walked up to me, on my grass greens,

Just to ask me that?

Are you some kind of idiot or what?”

And she said “Boy, do you,

Know who you’re talking to?

Did your daddy not teach you that,

You talk to girls like they own the world,

And you look them in the eyes.

Bet you’re momma didn’t teach you,

To stare at girls in the street.

Nor did your daddy say,

‘Hey son, listen to me’,

Girls love to be ignored.

No, boy, you better get apologising to me.