by Georgie Sicking
Listen to Poem
We went to the bank to get a loan to keep the ranch afloat.
Little banker had whiskers on his chin just like a billy goat.
He wrote “profession: rancher” on my husband’s pedigree,
asked a few more questions and then he looked at me.
He looked me up and down with kinda squinty eyes
and opened up his mouth and uttered a word that I despise: housewife
Now when I’m calvin’ heifers and haulin’ hay and doin’ other chores,
to call me “just a housewife” is enough to start a war.
I’ve got cows to move and fence to fix, gotta doctor that ol’ bull,
and that balky tractor it won’t start without a pull.
Now, the ranch work is important, so the house will have to wait.
I’ll cook supper for my husband because he’s workin’ late.
I’ve been a rancher’s daughter, I’ve been a rancher’s spouse,
But never was I ever married to a house.
© Georgie Sicking