Two horses stood aside-by-side;
one was a Shetland pony.
One was known as Marigold,
the other one called Tony.
They stood beneath the Thatcher-ed roofs;
they knew they had all day.
Hid from view, a tall pine tree
behind which they would play.
Upon their minds they knew t'would be,
But start it, which one dare?
They stood alone; two statues, still:
in windswept paddock, bare.
T'was Tony who did make first move
by interlocking necks.
Should not be long the two
were busy having sex.
The tusky grass of field so brown
t'was merely a deceit.
No winter winds, nor bleary frost
could stop these two on heat.
Now Marigold did catch an eye;
a flicker of her mane.
Tony looked most int'rested.
She tossed it once again.
A gentle muzzle down her leg
caused her blood to flow.
Tony kept on stroking her;
all over he did go.
Marigold had a history;
She'd worked down at the stable,
servicing the many studs
as oft' as she was able.
Her experience was tested.
Her Tony, he was rare.
Until this day she'd been a most
unsatisfied young mare.
But this time it was different,
f'r each other they were made.
The agony of waiting;
It finally had paid.
He plundered and he plundered,
And then he plunder more.
One thing to him was certain;
At last he'd found his hor-se.
(First published in 1989)
(c) TJ McGowan, MrsMyth
