Gymkhana Poems | Examples

My First Pony

Miss Garner, Miss Garner. I HATE your Gymkhana,
I loathe every second it's run.
I dread all those horses and obstacle courses,
and everyone else having fun.

Now Mummy is frantic, the panic gigantic;
my pony won't go in the box.
She's shouting and screaming (and often blaspheming),
when Dobbin sits down on his hocks.

We stop in a field, by others well heeled,
their lorries all parked in neat rows.
My Dobbin looks grotty, all rumpled and spotty;
their ponies are plaited in bows.

I get in Show Jumping my usual dumping,
when Dobbin refuses the last.
I'm beat in the Bending (and cry without ending);
my pony is not very fast.

You're calling my name?  Is this all a game?
And now you are pointing at me?
What me in the line, at Prize Giving time?
Oh, my?  Have you answered my plea?

Miss Garner, Miss Garner.  I LOVE your Gymkhana!
It's been such a jolly good thrash.
The Rosette I won has made it such fun;
my Dobbin has got a bran mash!

~

For Francine Roberts' "Children in Rhyme" Contest by Charles Clive.