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REINCARNATION

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REINCARNATION

"What is reincarnation?" a cowboy ask'd his friend.
"Well, it starts," his old pal tells him, "when your life comes to an end.
They wash your neck an' comb your hair an' clean your fingernails,
Then they sticks you in a padded box, away from life's travails.

Now the box an' you goes in a hole that's been dug in the ground,
And reincarnation starts, my friend, when they plant you 'neath that mound.
The clods melts down, as does the box, an' you who are inside,
And that's when you're beginning your transformation ride.

And in a while, the grass will grow upon that render'd mound,
Until some day upon that spot, a lonely flower is found.
And then a horse might wander by an' graze upon that flower
Thet once was you an's now become your vegetative bower.

Well, the flower that the horse done ate, along with his other feed,
Makes bone, an' fat, an' muscle essential to this steed.
But there's a part that he can't use an' so it passes through,
And there it lies upon the ground, this thing that once was you.

And if by chance I happen by an' see this on the ground,
I'll stop awhile an' ponder on this object I have found.
and I'll think about reincarnation, and' life an' death an' such,
And I'll go away concluding', 'Heck, you ain't changed that much!' '"

Author Unknown
 
:lol: :lol: :lol: Somehow the ending was a lot different than what I expected! :lol: :lol: :lol:
 
That is a Wally McRae original, recited by everyone but it is his.
 
I think Baxter did have something similar to this, but this one is McRae's. I have a standing order to recite this poem at the funeral of our 82 year-old neighbor. He still breaks horses, works longer and harder than most fellows 50 years younger, and loves to flirt with the girls of any age, while his lovely wife just grins at him! I hope I don't have to use the poem for at least another twenty years.
 
Liberty Belle said:
I think Baxter did have something similar to this, but this one is McRae's. I have a standing order to recite this poem at the funeral of our 82 year-old neighbor. He still breaks horses, works longer and harder than most fellows 50 years younger, and loves to flirt with the girls of any age, while his lovely wife just grins at him! I hope I don't have to use the poem for at least another twenty years.
I'm not 82 yet, but I love to flirt with the girls, of any age, but my lovely wife (and she certainly IS lovely!) does NOT just grin at me - Smirk maybe - but not grin! :mad: :twisted: But she understands me! :lol: :lol:
 

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