The corral was dark,
when the sun was out.
The cause was manure;
it was all about.

The horses had,
most every day,
been putting it there,
to rot and decay.

For five long years
it fell in piles
‘till you could smell
that place for miles.

It weren’t that bad
when the weather was dry.
but when it rained
it got knee high.

It turned to soup,
to liquid poop,
and Reed said
Get out the scoop.

I drove the tractor around that pen
a hundred times a day.
And pretty soon I had a pile
of tons of processed hay.

But it wasn’t long
‘till the tractor got stuck.
It sunk way down
in all that muck.

And there I was,
with just a shovel
and all that poop
to make me grovel.

I slung it high
I slung it low
It covered me
from head to toe.

I was a sight
for all to see,
scooping poop
with a college degree.

I’ve heard it said
you are what you eat.
So I looked at my horse
and then down at my feet.

And now when I ride her
down the trail
and hear things fall
from under her tail.

I smile to my self
and thank the lord
that she’s the horse
and I’m on board.


This was my first full summer working as a wrangler, and I got the job of cleaning out the corral
after having horses in it for 9 months. When you work as a wrangler, you start at the bottom and stay there.