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I ride in the bush. I
have a hobby of sorts.
It's physical, but, I'm not a lover of sports.
A jockey somewhat, but, on a deviant steed.
A cowboy, I guess astride a fowl of good speed.
The bird can't fly
In the sky.
Riding ostriches through fields, I hie.
Ropin' some lambs In a pasture of hay.
Herding some sheep a man and bird out at play.
Laugh, if you will, but, that it's cruel don't dismay
In Chandler, we race, we always win the relay
Horses can't compete. And, whinny in defeat.
My mount, my ostrich won't ever be beat.
Sometimes some people whine, sometimes, they bitch..
{waa, waa, waa!}
But, I'm not ostracizing the ostrich.
{it's just a bird...}
I'm not alone, the game has some precedence.
Eccentric, but, I haven't lost my sense.
The beak decides which cowbird wins in the end.
I've wagered and won, each time with my bird friend.
Man -- Bird -- Team.
Vict'ry dream. Ostrich wins with high self esteem.
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