If you find yourself losing the joy in your life
And your blessing is more like a curse
And you wonder what’s wrong with that sweet little girl
That you’ve taken for better or worse,
You look at her now and hear yourself say,
“A11 she does is gripe and complain.”
But maybe if you took a look at yourself,
You would find what exactly has changed.
Now, you didn’t used to call on that girl
With chicken hanging out of your teeth,
Your pants undone and your hair not combed
With whiskers you’ve had for a week.
You’d take three baths and put on cologne,
Shine your shoes and wax your car.
Then, you’d stand at a mirror and work on your hair
Till you looked like a Hollywood star.
You’d buy her candy and flowers and gifts
And ask her what she’d like to do.
Now, you drop in a chair and turn on the game
While she brings your supper to you.
You’d brag on her cookin’; you’d brag on her looks,
And she did the same in return.
Now, the only time you even notice at all
Is if she happens to let somethin’ burn.
If the other man’s grass is greener than yours,
It’s because it’s been tended and mowed.
A good horse ’11 die if she never gets fed.
She wasn’t just meant to be rode.
So, bring her some candy; write her a poem.
Treat her like she’s still your bride.
And that old lump of coal you thought was burned out
Might still be a diamond inside.
Ask God to help you to care for her needs,
And make her the queen of your world.
And when you fall for her…just like you did before,
You’ll know why you married that girl.
Copyright 2011, Bob H. Cook. All rights reserved.
Used by permission.