My horse, a Pinto named Beans,
rubbed a hole in my blue jeans;
I’ve never used a saddle
(leather would chafe’ my straddle).
I’m a soft human be’in’.

When brown Beans belched, threw a shoe,
it hit a guy sure to sue.
Where’d it hail? Plastered, no clue. Whew!
Beans kicked off his high heels, flew.
What the heck—they ached—too new!

My Pinto, Beans, went astray
trotted back, stank the whole day.
Heard he sang with a donkey.
The songstress, drunk on whiskey,
gave him a romp, made him pay.

Beans stood oozin’ gas, then blast
ev’reyone into the past.
Dinosaurs gobbled him up.
His acid gave Rex hic-cups—
blew me to the future … fast.

A cross-dresser, my dear Beans,
(glad he couldn’t wear my jeans)
I’ve his picture on my wall
all decked out—dress, heels and all.

Teased to smittereens … by fiends
there’s a place above for …. Beans!