My grandma used to say,
over the years as her hair turned grey,
"I'm going to get your goat"
Did not own a goat so I thought the chances remote,
Until the day I bought the Smiths' farm,
and boy did it have a lot of charm,
Animals wondered to and fro,
In Winter they even wandered in the snow,
I ended up with a goat as the case may be,
He was really a prize as you shall see,
His name was Gus and he had horns,
He wondered about and ate a lot of corn,
Could have won at the country fair,
I almost entered him on a dare,
One stormy night late last June,
He wondered off down to the lagoon,
Just then I heard my grandma's voice,
whisper to me,
of things that could not be,
Out of the farmhouse I ran as fast as I could,
Moving faster than I thought I should,
Came to the lagoon and Gus was not there,
All I could do was stare,
At the bubbles curdling all around,
as I heard the muffled moans of Gus as he went down,
Grandma had always teased,
She would get the last laugh on me.
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