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POEM Why do I like horses? I think I must be mad.My mother wasn’t horsey – And neither was my dad.But the madness hit me early – and it hit me like a curse.And I’ve never gotten better. In fact I’ve gotten worse.My stables are immaculate. My house is like a hovel.Last year for my birthday – I got a brand new shovel.

I hardly read a paper – but I know who’s sold their horse.And I wouldn’t watch the news – Unless Mr. Ed was on – of course.One eye’s always on the heavens -but my washing waves in vainAs I rush to get the horses in – in case it’s gonna rain.And though they’re wearing 15 rugs, The best that you can get,I bring them in to keep them dry – while I get soaking wet.I spend up every cent I’ve got – on horsey stuff for sureI buy saddles, bridles, fancy rugs – and then I buy some more.I should have had my hair cut – or bought that nice blue shirtAt least it wouldn’t now look ripped to shreds and in the dirtI can’t make a bloody sponge cake -I don’t even tryBut I can back a car and trailer – in the twinkling of an eye.It’s jeans and Ariat boots that I live in night and dayAnd that smell of sweaty horses just doesn’t wash away.Once every now and then I dress up for a ballMake up and a hairdo – with high heel shoes and all.I ache from long forgotten falls. My knees have got no skin.My toes have gone a funny shape – from being squashed again.But late at night, when all is still – and I’ve gone to give them hay,I touch their velvet softness and my worries float away.They give a gentle nicker and they nuzzle through my hairAnd I know it’s where my heart is – more here than anywhere