Lucky.

"Lucky" sure plumb weren't.

Sired by Rainbow Dancer, out of Pot-O'-Gold,

Rainbow Dancer Lucky Seven (Lucky), you'da thought he'd be bulletproof.

Ha!

As a colt, woodchuck got him ... along the fence-line of the north pasture

(Ah didn't know that critter lived there; honest!).

Lucky's down, screaming, foreleg green-stick break, so Ah shot him ... (Lucky, that is)...

full of dope, splinted his leg, called the vet.

Lucky heals, no lameness, no goofy gait, no nothin'; just big bucks.

Year later, 'way away from the others' mounds, renegade prairie-dog got him, (same leg).

So Ah shot him ... dead out this time, splinted, called the vet.

Vet ... chopper ... sling ... Lucky goes flyin'.

Me? I walks.

Slower this time, Lucky heals, still fine (bigger bucks, fer sure).

Last time, gopher got him ... in the truck garden.

Lucky found the organic carrots; so did the gopher; gopher won (diff'rent leg).

More screaming, more dope, more vet, more bucks;

Ah's had it!

Ah figures: iffen Lucky can't handle being lucky, Ah'll change his name.

(Naw, not "Black Hole" nor "Money Pit"....).

He ain't had a problem since.

Got me a steady, sure-footed, mellow horse now, called "Gopher Broke"

(Ah think he knows ... he ain't never gonna be no gelding.

Ah gotta get my money back somehow....)

Thomas Thornhill July 2, 2005

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