I swear I won’t make much of a habit of this, but, well, there ain’t much else to do on a hot summer day on the County Island than stand around in the shade listenin to the guy across the street blarin country music on his radio while he cleans his horses’ pens, cause it ain’t like we got jobs to do. So, sometimes, I like to make up new words to the songs I hear. I already told you my secret palomino song shame, alright, so don’t act all surprised. With no further ado, here’s my song about dry cob – that’s C.O.B., corn, oats and barley, with molasses in it too, for the horses that ain’t never had a taste of sweet heavenly cob — along with some apologies to a fine singer named Mr. Luke Bryan. Truthfully, I ain’t never had cob neither, because they don’t have it in these parts, but Original Coors sure likes to reminisce about eatin in when he lived in California. So this song’s for him. Don’t say I never do nothin nice for him.
My sire spent his life starin down at his feed sack
He’d kick, stomp the ground, sayin son, this Cob here lacks
It dries up in the heat here, I don’t mean to complain,
But where I come from, grain is a good thing.
Grain has corn, corn makes Whiskey
Kick up his hooves now, baby – feel a little frisky
Barley and oats all piled up, as tall as the top of our bucket gal’s truck
We gallop all around, when she comes back from town
Starts unloadin our feed while we refrain
Grain is a good thing.