My Connemara Filly

“Dammit,” he cried “I’ll never get you clean” For what he had seen Was nothing but mean “Come on over, now, here’s your feed” As the pony ran over With a great deal of speed Her leg limped Over a hard patch of ground That was by no means good At least the rest were sound She was covered in dirt From head to toe She rolled in the soiled grass All that mud was a foe The majestic white coat Hid deep underneath The only thing bright Was her freshly cleaned teeth The show is tomorrow And there’s no time for fun “My Connemara filly, What on earth have you done?”