A cowgirl named Betty Begonia
Had a ranch near Point Reyes, Califonia.
She raised goats and llamas,
Wore sheepskin pajamas,
And liked feta cheese with bologna.
One day, with a whoop and a holler,
Three cowboys rode down for a swaller—
Root beer and macaroons
At Murphy’s Saloon—
Which cost them their last silver dollar.
Well, without any prospects or money,
One cowboy said, “Boys, this ain’t funny.
We need some employment
To buy some enjoyment,
Like cinnamon crackers with honey!”
Then they heard that Ms. Betty Begonia
Had a goat who’d come down with pneumonia.
And the cowboys said, “Hey,
As of right now, today,
We are goat doctors from Arizonia!”
So they saddled their horses and rode
To Ms. Betty Begonia’s abode,
Where they rang her doorbell….
From inside came a yell:
”Come on in for some pie a la mode!”
“So…you say you’re three vets out of Phoenix,”
Betty said as she reached for some Kleenex
To nose-wipe her goat.
“Yes, ma’am! Ear, nose, and throat!
With degrees in advanced calistheenics!”
Said the cowboys. “I see,” Betty frowned
As she looked the three dudes up and down.
“Your tale sounds a bit tall
But I’ll hire you all
If you help my goat Gertie rebound.”
So the cowboys unpacked their guitars
And that night, ‘neath a sky full of stars,
They sang a sweet medley
Of tunes that were deadly
To pneumonias, sore throats, and catarrhs.
And sure enough, next morning, Gertie
Was bright-eyed, rambunctious, and flirty.
She leapt and cavorted,
And was eagerly courted
By a number of rams, maybe thirty.
So Betty made good on her promise
And she hired Jim, Ringo, and Thomas
To handyman positions
And at times as physicians
Serenading her goats and her llamas.