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I once had a painted pony,
A wooden rocking horse.
He was a high speed racer
On our living room course.

I rode Old Paint for hours
Over every hill and plain,
Rides that I imagined
In my busy young brain.

We won every steeplechase
How his rockers did thump,
In my mind we were champions
We cleared every jump.

But on one of our rides
Paint broke a rocker,
And we had to rush him
To a wood horse doctor.

The doctor said "I'm sorry
But I think you should know,
Down to the glue factory
Is the place Old Paint should go."
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10/23/2001

Posted on 10/23/2001
Copyright © 2024 Charles E Minshall