John, the Work Horse
My name is John--the work horse
And I was teamed with Prince.
We could easily do a job at which
An Arabian horse would flinch.
Prince's work is over now.
He's buried in the pasture.
I am too old to work so hard,
According to my kind master.
He tells me I must take my ease
And to just enjoy my leisure,
That he is going to retire
And be a lazy old geezer.
But he still drives the plow team
And I just follow after.
I try to mind his gees and haws.
He doubles up with laughter.
When he keeps his promise to retire,
I will stop working too.
We'll spend our time malingering
Beneath the skies of blue
Written Feb. 29, 2016
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2016
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