Strange things happen when there's mules around,
But the strangest thing I ever seen
Was last year when my old saddle mule
Got drunk on Christmas Eve.
Now Granddad throws a Christmas party
On the afternoon before the big day.
He invites the buckaroos and hayin' crews
And neighbors from miles away.
Before our wives give us permission to go,
We have to promise we'll be home
In time to go to church that night -
And that's the subject of my poem.
Some of us drive, others'll ride in
On horses or mules - we hitch 'em at the rail.
Granddad's famous for his brandy and eggnog,
And that's where I'll start this tale.
Last year's party was in the office in the barn
But Granddad made the eggnog up outside.
He filled up a tub and added the brandy -
It was the best I'd ever tried.
We was gettin' pretty warmed up
And nobody noticed my mule outside the door.
Nobody saw her drink all the eggnog,
Or fall down passed out on the floor.
It wasn't till we was fixin' to leave
That we discovered the predicament we was in -
My mule was sleepin' it off in front of the door
And we was all stuck within.
You can imagine what our wives said
When we called about bein' late.
Mine said, "If you don't make church don't bother comin' home."
She said she'd be lockin' the gate!
We finally pushed my mule away from the door
And she struggled to her feet.
She staggered and weaved all the way home -
Ridin' a hung-over mule's no treat!
So this year I've learned my lesson,
Though I'm still ridin' that ol' mule.
If I ever ride her again on Christmas Eve
I'd be one helluva fool!
Note: This poem is based partly on a true story. My Granddad kept a "guard" donkey at his salvage yard in Southern California. One Christmas, "Annie Mule" drank all of the eggnog at the Christmas party and passed out in front of the office door, trapping everyone inside!
Thoughts about sustainable agriculture and forestry from the Sierra Nevada foothills.
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