Rocking Horse
I used to have a rocking horse,
Upon its back I sat.
And first I'd lean it this way,
And then I'd lean it that.
That rocking horse once took me,
Around the wild, wild West,
The mileage that I got on him,
Was some I loved the best.
These rocking horses that you see,
With no one on their backs,
The reason they are riderless,
Is because of Red Man's Tax.
No, not the Injuns that I shot,
They're peaceful now, at last,
The Reds that overran us, though,
On election days just past,
Our hobby-horse got hobbled,
Right at the starting gate,
For all the energy we'd command,
We might have slept too late.
NicknamedBob . . . . December 31, 2008
Last poem this year. Probably. (Dusty's picture, by the way.)