The Wild Mare
D
Dr John Celes
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I know about a thin brown mare,
Whose trot I can't endorse!
It ate just turnips and no grass,
And dreamt of Arabia!
It had no one to groom it well,
Or stable of its own;
Yet, stately was its walk most times,
Becoming talk of the town!
But soon the time came to gallop,
All by itself that too;
And all her dreams of past vanished,
And spectre-like they all turned!
Not a meadow green, did she find!
The roads were rough to tread;
Life had become so much cruel;
Some bitter lessons, she'd learn't!
And soon she tried to canter now,
And tried to eat some grass;
On dusty roads and vales, by-lanes,
She then began her first trot!
When sickness tried to threaten her,
She took much care to drink;
And by brink of a brook shallow,
Now lively became her trot!
She found the roads in life quite tough,
For young a female horse!
She realized so quickly then,
She wasn't from Arabia!
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