My father sent me this poem, saying that was written about me.
Then I put it on my Facebook page and countless people said that it could have been written about them.
Of course there are some variations (I know how to make sponge cake), but the addiction to horses seems to afflict so many people around the world.
Does this poem describe you?
How many of you friends could this poem be about?
Why do I like horses?
I reckon I must be mad.
My mother wasn’t horsey
And neither was my dad
But this addiction hit me early
And it hit me like a curse
And I’ve never gotten better
In fact I’ve gotten worse
My stables are immaculate
My house is like a hovel
Last year for my birthday
I got a brand new shovel
I hardly read a paper
But I know who’s sold their horse
And I wouldn’t watch the news
If Mr. Ed was on, of course
One eye’s always on the heavens
But the washing waves in vain
As I rush to get the horses in
In case it’s going to rain
And though they’re wearing 15 rugs
The best that you can get
I bring them in to keep them dry
While I get soaking wet
I spend up every cent I’ve got
On horsey stuff for sure
I buy stable rugs and fancy rugs
And then I buy some more
I should have had my hair cut
Or brought that nice blue shirt
At least it wouldn’t be now
Be ripped to shreds and in the dirt
I can’t make pie or sponge cake
I don’t even try
But I can back a car and trailer
In the twinkling of an eye
Its jeans and R.M. boots
That I live in night and day
And that smell of sweaty horses
Just doesn’t wash away
Once in every, now and then
I can dress up for a ball
Make up and a hairdo
With high heel shoes and all
I ache from long forgotten falls
My knees have got no skin
My toes have gone a funny shape
From being squashed again
But last at night, when all is still
And I’ve gone to give them hay
I touch their velvet softness
And my worries float away
They give a gently nicker
And they nuzzle through my hair
And I know it’s where my heart is
More than anywhere
