The goat

I am a simple goat
I live on the back of a pick-up truck
The Old Man tied me here with a 3-foot rope
Am I happy he don't give a fuck
He's filled with anger, and filled with rage

And tells me I smell like piss
His drink, Jimmy Bean
His chaser, a bear
After that, various alcohols
That's when the beatings get so severe

Asleep I pray he falls
But don't feel sorry for me
Things weren't always this bad
Why, when I was a young talking goat
The Old Man was just like my dad

I come from the hills of Europe
That's where I met the Old Man
He was lost in the woods, I gave him directions
He gave me a tuna can

Then he stopped in his tracks
And he said, "Hey Goat!
Would you like to live with me?
I've got a house with a pick-up truck
In a place across the sea"
I said, "Sure, why not, I've got no family
You seem like a nice guy"

So we went off to America
The home of the apple pie
On the boat, the Old Man told me
I would be a present for his wife
"A talking goat!" he exclaimed,
"She'd never seen this in her life"
I felt so special!

Well, I just couldn't believe it
After all theses years I finally had a friend
He trimmed my beard
He scraped my hooves
I prayed it would never end

But when we got to his house
There was no wife
Only a short, short letter
It said: "I'm leaving you for your broher
Because he fucks me better"
His eyes filled with tears of sadness
His heart was filled with grief

To soothe himself he drank a pint of Old Granddad
And beat me like a side of beef
I screamed, "Send me back to the hills of Europe!"
He just shook his head and said, "Nope!
No one will ever leave me again
To make sure, put on this 3-foot fucking rope."

Present day, I've been on the truck for 51 years
My only friend is the AM radio
Sometimes the neighborhood children stop by
But it's always rocks and beer bottles they throw

At first they're excited to see a talking goat
They gather around to hear what I have to say
But I guess sometimes my stories go ont too long
So they leave and giggle I need a bidet