A Trojan Horse

He was the first to climb inside, a trap door just beneath the tail, only skinny warriors apply, though all, even the fat ones were in awe over the very thought, the idea which had been hatched during morning tea; what if, someone had uttered, what if they could go in sight unseen, armed, of course and dangerous? The bailiff had, a cautious man, said no one checks the mouth, a gift horse is just that, but hey, some morons would be drawn to where the sun don't shine, it is the odour of fresh dung that whets their appetite, like hogs and beetles they go wild so what will be, he asked them what, my learned friends, will be? So many have, in much more modern times, attempted a revival of the symbol yet, no one has ever built and sent into the camp of morons and the like a Trojan filled with authenticity.