They plowed our fields
they built our cities
they helped us bury our dead.
We are in debt to our equine friends
those odd-toed ungulates.
You’ve gone as far
as to war, with us, horse.
You shall not worry,
anymore, horse.
For as long as you are able to ride,
you’ll remain safe and secure
in my stable.
You’ll be all of my pride.
You shall have a solid roof,
one that is vermin-proof,
but don’t lift your hoof
in disapproval when
the three blind mice run though.
But I will ask of you…
To not be bored,
during boarding, horse.
That is far worse
than the disturbance
from the mice…
for you could
pick up a vice.
Do not box-walk,
do not crib-bite,
do not rock from side-to-side.
No, I really wouldn’t want
any sort of vice
to splice up the way that you stride.
For I am the rider,
together we will rid of
biding idle time
just abide by my bridle.
Stirrups and a saddle,
rhythm like a paradiddle.
Past the sheep and cattle
and straight into the open middle
of the meadow.
Together..we will ride.
we will ride..
we will ride.