Talkin' Veterinarian Blues - Corb Lund

Well, my daddy’s a vet and if I was one too, the one thing he always taught me

to do was get paid, cash money

Jam and eggs is a kind enough thank you, but not for the bookkeeper,

not for the banker

The margin’s thin on treatin' large animals unless it’s a purebred or,

more understandable, a racehorse of some kind

You see son, city folks pay a high dollar to make sure fido ain’t hot under the

collar, that’s where the money is

Boutique animal hospitals, shopping malls, cocker spaniels, pomeranians;

hang your shingle

There was a blind old woman brings in a bird with a busted wing and somewhere

she heard we were good doctors

That night it died in the cage, under our care of unknown cause but we’ll make

it square, these things happen

Only one cure though, quick trip to the pet store

Well, mornin' come, didn’t want to upset her;

for her own good I didn’t see a

need to tell her

«Not only you boys fixed his wing, but it appears as though you taught him to

sing, you are good doctors!

He ain’t never sung before, I’ve had him for years!»

When you’ve been in the business as long as I have, you begin to consider the

plight of the calves

Fun lovin', frolickin', carefree little critters

The first few months ain’t all that bad, they’ll never forget the good times

they had

But then comes fall and brandin' times, stuck in the ribs with a red hot iron

Tag in the ear, shots in the hip, the dehornin' paste and snip, snip, snip

Welcome to the world, little buddy, it’s no picnic

I’ve treated my share of sugar beet chokes, if it gets too bad you gotta cut

the throat and salvage the carcass

Dress him out on the spot

This one old steer, he choked real bad, in the corner of the pen he’s mighty mad

I poked at the beet, it wouldn’t dislodge, the farmer says, «I got a dull knife

back at the garage»

I said «go get it!"gotta save the meat

I made the jugular cut, the steer jumped to his feet, shook his head and

coughed up the beet

Stood there and bled to death in front of his owner

«Thank you, doc… what do I owe ya?»

Well, that’s how it goes with the sugar beet chokes just don’t get me started

on… alfalfa bloats