Entry Rates

They use’ter called him Jim-oh in ‘is later
years, don’t know why that’s so; as kids
we’d called ‘im Bruce-e Goosy ‘cause he
herded geese as easily as happy sheep

And he was good; those bastards honked
me off their patch, bashed me more’n sad
a hundred times before I learned respect
enough to let ‘em well alone

Although I persevered the beaks ‘n wings
had memories of where I hurt the worst –
and Bruce-e cheered and cursed for me
claiming I was really brave

Yet while he was a simpleton in fact did
not deride his ample skills, he’d rope and
ride a fractious horse without a cautious
thought for future ills or awful suffering

Lucid explanations never reasoned why I
failed or for his notable success until we
grew beyond the land – it was as if those
blessed were geese to see us leave

He admitted then he’d made a pact that if
they’d act the way he wanted to when I was
there he’d always play their rules; in truth it
had me neatly fooled I have to say

Although his name has changed Jim-oh’s
notoriety was truly earned while I became
an also-ran in stakes these days where
geese precisely set the only entry rates
© 13 August 2011, I. D. Carswell