If I say that I’m sorry will you dry that last tear
Just get yourself some tissue and hand me a beer
We can talk tomorrow why you think I’m a jerk
And don’t forget my dinner before you go to work
You can wait till tomorrow to wash my fishing boat
Now where’s that beer and hand me the remote
I’ll try to do better and stop being a slob
When hunting seasons over, I’ll look for a job
Hope you don’t mind walking to the bus stop
I need your car while my truck’s in the shop
And about my hunting dogs sleeping in our bed
Till hunting seasons over, could you sleep in the shed
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem