The next plank made it six-foot-five (A record height of course.)
And as he waited for his turn, and watched a few more fail,
he carefully lifted up one leg, and showed us he was male.
For you see he started piddling, as the crowd all stood and stared.
Most blokes would suffer stage fright, but old Horse was unimpaired.
He piddled long, he piddled hard; we thought he'd never stop.
Until at last in sheer relief he drained his final drop.
The crowd was quite relieved too, as old Horse regained all fours,
and despite the act, in actual fact broke into warm applause.
Had it been a tactic to put off the other two?
Or more a case that dogs have got to do what dogs must do?
The old record forgotten as another plank went up.
The last remaining dogs were each competing for the cup.
The crowd was getting bigger, but the dogs were down to three.
In this round Horse was jumping first. (He set himself to wee.)
He piddled here. He piddled there. The smell of pee was eveywhere.
Just as we thought we'd laughed till hurt, .. he emptied out one final squirt.
He took a moment to set himself, and then came dashing in.
He leapt and clambered o'er the boards. You should have heard the din!
The crowd all knew that we were in the company of a star.
Whistling. Clapping. Chanting 'Horse!', and cheering"Hip. Hoorah!".
The other dogs both tried, but no, the planks were just too high.
They both were valiant in defeat. You couldn't fault their try.
Each dog had beat the previous best, by not one plank, but two.
Which shows why we should set our minds to do what we must do.
The runners-up received applause, and minor prizes too.
But then we all returned our gaze to see what Horse might do.
He clearly was the winner, but just what height could he climb?
We settled down to help the champ.he seemed to take his time.
Eight-foot was just unheard of, but he'd made it through this far.
By now the crowd was massive; this new sport seemed less bizarre.
In the centre of the circle, old Horse backed up some more.
This masive pet was statue set, with all four on the floor.
The pressure as the crowd looked on; the sporting tension grew.
This time he didn't cock his leg, as most good doggies do,
although it meant his inside leg might end up getting damp.
This dog was set on triumph. He'd the hallmark of a champ.
He'd made it clear; he's hear to win. And one thought made us smile;
You could help but 'preciate his brazen doggie-style.
He piddled left. He piddled right. He piddled now with all his might.
He pee-ed so hard he seemed to strain. Surely he'd none left to drain.
He strained so hard it seemed to hurt, as his last drops dripped and hit the dirt.
This dog was rare; this dog was great. he made it up and over Eight!
Another plank: another go. (He made that year a special show).
He set to pee, but nothing came. He ran and jumped it just the same.
Again the crowd became alive. The dog had just jumped eight-foot five!
He seemed fatigued. He seemed to tire. The wall was built up slightly higher.
He set himself, but not a drop. But Horse just wasn't one to stop.
He really struggled at this height. Horse seemed to call on all his might.
He showed true grit. He showed real guts. And once again the crowd went nuts!!
As stewards fixed on yet more lumber, no-one for a mile could slumber,
for the volume of that frenzied mob, kept urging Horse keep up the job!
But his tank had been emptied of his vital spark.
Horse's run came to an end at the nine-foot mark.
He couldn't clear the nine-foot log.
We won't forget that piddling dog.
Who in his own, unusual way
made that show a special day.
(c) TJ McGowan, Mrs Myth
