"My doc," says Waco, "takes the cake.
It's bad enough, how he prods an' pokes,
but he's one a them fellas that seems t'think
he's gotta set there makin' jokes."

"Yer exam," he sez, "shows yer healthy as a horse."
Then he chuckles an' slaps 'is knee.
"The bad news is, it's a really old horse,
I'd say about seventy-three."

Waco sez, "So, what does that mean,
have I got much longer t'live?
If I gotta problem, I'd like t'know
what advice have y'got to give?"

"Well," sez Doc, "they's a couple'a things,
if y'don't wanta have ya a stroke.
Y'gotta give up drinkin', and runnin' around,
an' learn how not t'smoke."

"Come on," sez Waco, "you gotta be kiddin',
I ain't done that fer years!"
"Well then," sez Doc, turn yer head this way.
I wanna take a look in yer ears."

"Ya kin look," sez Waco, "but don't go pokin'
yer flashlight all the way through."
"Relax," Doc sez, "that ain't my style.
That's somethin' that I wouldn't do."

Doc holds 'is light jist off to the right,
an' looks in Waco's left ear.
"By golly," he sez, "Y'oughta come look,
I kin see the light through here."

Waco slaps at 'is hand and sez, "Now quit!
Jist tell me what's wrong an' be done!"
"Well, Waco," sez Doc, "Yer the picture a health.
I was havin m'self some fun."

Waco sez, "Okay, then I'll be on my way.
Makin' jokes ain't really a crime.
But lissen," he sez, "if ya wanna have fun,
come see me at brandin' time."

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