Horsing Around

If I were a horse, what kind would I be? A raging white stallion so wild and so free, Leading the herd to new pastures green, Sinuous, shiny; a sight to be seen! Handsome and striking; pawing the air I’d be the desire of every young mare. No, not a stallion; a stunning paint war horse Adorned with bold markings and feathers of course. Only a brave chief could sit me astride, Into the battle we’d gallop and ride! We’d ride at high noon and into the night Striking fear in the hearts of all who dare fight! Oh, who am I kidding? I’m not of that sort! I’ve hardly the passion to kick or to snort. A poor sorrel plough horse is what I would be, No stranger to rider nor harness; that’s me! Wearing white socks; the work I’d enjoy. With a star on my forehead; I’m such a good boy!