stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 14136
    [post_author] => 4
    [post_date] => 2013-10-25 14:55:14
    [post_date_gmt] => 2013-10-25 14:55:14
    [post_content] => Now I’ve heard The Man With No Name
tellin’ folks I don’t like people laughin’-
says I get the crazy notion
they’re laughin’
at me…

Well, that’s a load of hee-haw,
for sure:
I’m about as self-assured and confident a Mule
as you’re likely to find
either side of the Mexican borderline.
See, my Momma was a skittish chestnut mare,
and I get my fine set o’ teeth
and my elegant hooves from her
but my Pappy gave me
a donkey’s patience and an even temper…
shame about the ears.

So y’see I ain’t generally too fussed when folks are laughin’.
I confess, I do hate it when folks start shootin’.

Been shot at by Confederates,
been shot at by the Union,
been shot at by bandits, outlaws, inlaws,
mulateers, racketeers, pistoleers,
pursuin’ posses and ambushin’ enemies.
Been fired on by cannon, by pistol and by rifle…

By my rump, I sure could do without this rumpus nowadays.
Truth be told, I’d settle
for a quiet life,
a little paddock on the prairie.
Sometimes, I say to the cowboy:
look here, friend,
if we don’t take it easy soon,
I’m gonna tell all the folks in the next saloon
just what your Momma really christened
The Man With No Name.
Then we’ll see who gets the crazy idea
that people are laughin’.
    [post_title] => Mule Musings
    [post_excerpt] => 
    [post_status] => publish
    [comment_status] => closed
    [ping_status] => closed
    [post_password] => 
    [post_name] => mule-musings
    [to_ping] => 
    [pinged] => 
    [post_modified] => 2016-10-10 14:45:52
    [post_modified_gmt] => 2016-10-10 14:45:52
    [post_content_filtered] => 
    [post_parent] => 0
    [guid] => http://poems.poetrysociety.org.uk/?post_type=poems&p=14136
    [menu_order] => 0
    [post_type] => poems
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    [meta_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [wpcf-published-in] => 
            [wpcf-date-published] => 2013
            [wpcf-summary-description] => Charlotte said: Very funny, and Jenny really captured the voice of the character. I liked that she rose to the challenge of writing the story from an unusual perspective, and loved how deliberate and clever the ending is. The delivery was lovely, very confident, and I particularly liked the ‘bandits, outlaws, inlaws, / mulateers, racketeers, pistoleers’ lines.
            [wpcf-rights-information] => 
            [wpcf-poem-award] => Winner, Performance poem challenge 2013
            [wpcf_pr_belongs] => 
        )

    [poet_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [ID] => 13658
            [forename] => Jenny 
            [surname] => Burville-Riley
            [title] => Jenny Burville-Riley
            [slug] => jenny-burville-riley
            [content] => Jenny is a commended poet in the Timothy Corsellis Prize 2016 on Young Poets Network. She is also the first prize winner of the Timothy Corsellis Prize 2016, and a winner of the Young Poets Network 'Performance poem' challenge.
        )

)
stdClass Object
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    [ID] => 13658
    [forename] => Jenny 
    [surname] => Burville-Riley
    [title] => Jenny Burville-Riley
    [slug] => jenny-burville-riley
    [content] => Jenny is a commended poet in the Timothy Corsellis Prize 2016 on Young Poets Network. She is also the first prize winner of the Timothy Corsellis Prize 2016, and a winner of the Young Poets Network 'Performance poem' challenge.
)

Mule Musings

Jenny Burville-Riley

Now I’ve heard The Man With No Name
tellin’ folks I don’t like people laughin’-
says I get the crazy notion
they’re laughin’
at me…

Well, that’s a load of hee-haw,
for sure:
I’m about as self-assured and confident a Mule
as you’re likely to find
either side of the Mexican borderline.
See, my Momma was a skittish chestnut mare,
and I get my fine set o’ teeth
and my elegant hooves from her
but my Pappy gave me
a donkey’s patience and an even temper…
shame about the ears.

So y’see I ain’t generally too fussed when folks are laughin’.
I confess, I do hate it when folks start shootin’.

Been shot at by Confederates,
been shot at by the Union,
been shot at by bandits, outlaws, inlaws,
mulateers, racketeers, pistoleers,
pursuin’ posses and ambushin’ enemies.
Been fired on by cannon, by pistol and by rifle…

By my rump, I sure could do without this rumpus nowadays.
Truth be told, I’d settle
for a quiet life,
a little paddock on the prairie.
Sometimes, I say to the cowboy:
look here, friend,
if we don’t take it easy soon,
I’m gonna tell all the folks in the next saloon
just what your Momma really christened
The Man With No Name.
Then we’ll see who gets the crazy idea
that people are laughin’.