Covered

Covered wagons all lined up

The frantic start, it was abrupt.

My aching began at the first jolt

I hung in, I did not revolt.

Still, I felt every pebble and every bump

What can I do for my aching rump?

My husband rides on my lovely horse

I'm stuck here, driving the oxen of course

He is there resting, smoking his pipe

My anger's building my temper is ripe

After making his supper I went to bed

He enjoyed sipping some whisky instead

When he crawled into the wagon intent on some lovin'

With my boots still firmly on I did a fair bit of shovin'

I now ride my beautiful well tempered horse

While he drives the cantankerous oxen of course