Petersen: The day my chore coat died
It officially turned fall on Sept. 22, the same day that my chore coat died. It survived all winter, spring and summer through calving, lambing, farrowing, machine repair, weather assaults and numerous challenges from recalcitrant or downright hostile critters.
But it has turned up its denim toes (do jackets have toes?), given up, bit the dirt, bought the farm and otherwise has simply fallen apart, literally.
Trying to shrug into it on the first day of fall, the pitiful garment lost an arm. That appendage had been hanging on by the proverbial thread. I faced doing chores in a one-armed chore coat. Giant safety pins temporarily fixed the tragedy, but really there was no way to resuscitate it to a useable condition. I had to dispose of it. I cremated my worn out, decrepit chore coat in the burn barrel. I thought about keeping the ashes in a memorial urn, but decided that might be overdoing it.
THE DAY MY CHORE COAT DIED
Tune: The Hearse Song
Did you ever think as your chore coat frays
That sooner or later, t’will be its last day
When its pockets got shredded on a vicious wire fence
When you ran from a bull that made you quite tense
When you calved the heifers and slimed the coat
It’s all icky now and it smells like a goat
And then both sleeves burned in a branding fire
Then got run over by a pickup’s tire
Oh, the collar’s raggy, the lining’s tatty
It’s ripped all over, and sure looks shabby
And it’s got no buttons, just some safety pins
To keep it closed against wint’ry wind
And its once bright color is now all faded
The poor thing’s now dilapidated
And it makes you sad, puts tears in your eye
The day has come, you must say goodbye
So you take it out and you lower it down
Into the burn barrel there on the ground
And you add some fuel from a gasoline can
Then strike a sulphur with right or left hand
And the flames blaze up, and the chore coat moans
The cloth curls up and it seems to groan
And so goes the last of that ratty garment
Leaves safety pins like the claws on varmints
Now there’s nothing left but a pile of ash
The residue looks like nasty trash
So, you scoop it up, and you toss it away
And think of a new coat you’ll buy today.❖
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