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Boot and Saddle
I
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
Rescue my castle before the hot day
Brightens to blue from its silvery gray,
Chorus. Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
II
Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say;
Many's the friend there, will listen and pray
"God's luck to gallants that strike up the lay—
Chorus. "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
III
Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay,
Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads' array:
Who laughs, "Good fellows ere this, by my fay,
Chorus. "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
IV
Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and gay,
Laughs when you talk of surrendering, "Nay!
I've better counsellors; what counsel they?
Chorus. "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
poem by Robert Bloomfield from Cavalier Tunes (1842)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Cavalier Tunes: Boot and Saddle
Boot, saddle, to horse and away!
Rescue my Castle, before the hot day
Brightens to blue from its silvery gray,
(Chorus)
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say;
Many's the friend there, will listen and pray
"God's luck to gallants that strike up the lay--
(Chorus)
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay,
Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads' array:
Who laughs, "Good fellows ere this, by my fay,
(Chorus)
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and gay,
Laughs when you talk of surrendering, "Nay!
I've better counsellors; what counsel they?
(Chorus)
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
poem by Robert Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Boot and Saddle
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
Rescue my Castle, before the hot day
Brightens the blue from its silvery grey,
(Chorus) "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say;
Many's the friend there, will listen and pray
"God's luck to gallants that strike up the lay,
(Chorus) "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay,
Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads array:
Who laughs, Good fellows ere this, by my fay,
(Chorus) "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and gay,
Laughs when you talk of surrendering, "Nay!
I've better counsellors; what counsel they?"
(Chorus) "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
poem by Robert Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Looking for my Horse
Just the other day I lost my horse
I lost my horse, I lost it somewhere
Not here for sure or I would find it
My horse is hungry my horse must drink
The flies are horse flies you know
They zoom about my head as if to say
You are sitting on your saddle, you dummy
Your saddle under you, beneath that … a horse
poem by Werner Klokow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Calamity Jane
He looked like a good saddle horse
though his hair was long
and his beard three days course
she soon had the saddle on him
and he worked at the ride
it was a matter of pride
everything that he tried
drew the noose tighter still
till she'd broken his will
till he'd do anything that she said
he worked like a mule
while she soaked the young fool
taking just about all that he made
when she cut the horse loose
he was well beyond use
and she advanced on the herd once again.
poem by George Murdock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Back In The Saddle
I'm back
I'm back in the saddle again
I'm back
I'm back in the saddle again
Ridin' into town alone by the light of the moon
I'm lookin' for old Sukie Jones she crazy horse saloon
Barkeep gimme a drink that's when she caught my eye
She turned to give me a wink that make a grown man cry
I'm back in the saddle again
I'm back
I'm back in the saddle again
I'm back
Come easy
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Swearing is like any other music... If it is not done well, if it is not done with a fine and discriminating art, and vitalized with gracious and heartborn feeling, it lacks beauty, it lacks charm, it lacks expression, it lacks nobleness, it lacks majesty...
David Gridley in Indiantown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Knight's Leap: A Legend of Altenar
'So the foemen have fired the gate, men of mine;
And the water is spent and gone?
Then bring me a cup of the red Ahr-wine:
I never shall drink but this one.
'And reach me my harness, and saddle my horse,
And lead him me round to the door:
He must take such a leap to-night perforce,
As horse never took before.
'I have fought my fight, I have lived my life,
I have drunk my share of wine;
From Trier to Coln there was never a knight
Led a merrier life than mine.
'I have lived by the saddle for years two score;
And if I must die on tree,
Then the old saddle tree, which has borne me of yore,
Is the properest timber for me.
'So now to show bishop, and burgher, and priest,
How the Altenahr hawk can die:
If they smoke the old falcon out of his nest,
He must take to his wings and fly.'
He harnessed himself by the clear moonshine,
And he mounted his horse at the door;
And he drained such a cup of the red Ahr-wine,
As man never drained before.
He spurred the old horse, and he held him tight,
And he leapt him out over the wall;
Out over the cliff, out into the night,
Three hundred feet of fall.
They found him next morning below in the glen,
With never a bone in him whole-
A mass or a prayer, now, good gentlemen,
For such a bold rider's soul.
Eversley, 1864.
poem by Charles Kingsley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A horse of good breed is not dishonored by his saddle.
Wind Horse
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, gentle Wind horse, you were the last of your kind.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you were running wild and free.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, with this freedom you did nothing but give;
When one called for help you carried them to safety,
No enemy did you have.
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you gave your life one day
To a boy with no leg.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you gave him your endless love.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you now run in the Great Hunting Grounds;
Giving joy to those there, as you did here.
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, your life was not the last gift
You gave the People.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you prayed for us, you wished a wish for us.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, we remember you through your brother Horse.
Wi: yo: h … It is good.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, we see you still.
poem by Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ghost Song
An old man and an old horse moved slowly and steadily
towards the furthest mountain.
An old man on an old horse.
The old man thought of the many times he'd been thrown;
the old horse, how many times he'd been ridden.
They weren't in no great rush.
The old man sat straight in the saddle, head held high.
The old horse kept his head high too,
letting his feet choose the way as they
searched the clouds looking for any old friends
they had passed on the way.
A soft gentle rain started to fall,
the horse stopped, the old man bent over
and stroked his friend's neck
poem by William Mendelson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What is a Horse?
What is a horse?
A horse has eyes as dainty as a mink.
The grace is interrupted merely by a blink.
A horse is beauty.
What is a horse?
A horse is a tree in a storm that never goes down.
A horse is a weathered rock that stays around.
A horse is ancient.
What is a horse?
A horse waltzes like breeze over rivers.
She curvets and leaps like rain shivers.
A horse is a marionette.
What is a horse?
A horse is determination, that never stops flowing.
A horse is fondness, that never stops growing.
A horse is poetic power.
poem by Lily Whittaker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Son's Sorrow
FROM THE ICELANDIC.
The King has asked of his son so good,
“Why art thou hushed and heavy of mood?
O fair it is to ride abroad.
Thou playest not, and thou laughest not;
All thy good game is clean forgot.”
“Sit thou beside me, father dear,
And the tale of my sorrow shalt thou hear.
Thou sendedst me unto a far-off land,
And gavest me into a good Earl’s hand.
Now had this good Earl daughters seven,
The fairest of maidens under heaven.
One brought me my meat when I should dine,
One cut and sewed my raiment fine.
One washed and combed my yellow hair,
And one I fell to loving there.
Befell it on so fair a day,
We minded us to sport and play.
Down in a dale my horse bound I,
Bound on my saddle speedily.
Bright red she was as the flickering flame
When to my saddle-bow she came.
Beside my saddle-bow she stood,
‘To flee with thee to my heart were good.’
Kind was my horse and good to aid,
My love upon his back I laid.
We gat us from the garth away,
And none was ware of us that day.
But as we rode along the sand
Behold a barge lay by the land.
So in that boat did we depart,
And rowed away right glad at heart.
When we came to the dark wood and the shade
To raise the tent my true-love bade.
Three sons my true-love bore me there,
And syne she died who was so dear.
A grave I wrought her with my sword,
With my fair shield the mould I poured.
First in the mould I laid my love,
Then all my sons her breast above.
And I without must lie alone;
So from the place I gat me gone.”
No man now shall stand on his feet
To love that love, to woo that sweet:
O fair it is to ride abroad.
poem by William Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cavalier Tunes
. MARCHING ALONG.
I.
Kentish Sir Byng stood for his King,
Bidding the crop-headed Parliament swing:
And, pressing a troop unable to stoop
And see the rogues flourish and honest folk droop,
Marched them along, fifty-score strong,
Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song.
II.
God for King Charles! Pym and such carles
To the Devil that prompts 'em their treasonous parles!
Cavaliers, up! Lips from the cup,
Hands from the pasty, nor bite take nor sup
Till you're---
CHORUS.---Marching along, fifty-score strong,
Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song.
III.
Hampden to hell, and his obsequies' knell
Serve Hazelrig, Fiennes, and young Harry as well!
England, good cheer! Rupert is near!
Kentish and loyalists, keep we not here
CHORUS.---Marching along, fifty-score strong,
Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song?
IV.
Then, God for King Charles! Pym and his snarls
To the Devil that pricks on such pestilent carles!
Hold by the right, you double your might;
So, onward to Nottingham, fresh for the fight,
CHORUS.---March we along, fifty-score strong,
Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song!
II. GIVE A ROUSE.
I.
King Charles, and who'll do him right now?
King Charles, and who's ripe for fight now?
Give a rouse: here's, in hell's despite now,
King Charles!
II.
Who gave me the goods that went since?
Who raised me the house that sank once?
Who helped me to gold I spent since?
Who found me in wine you drank once?
CHORUS.---King Charles, and who'll do him right now?
King Charles, and who's ripe for fight now?
Give a rouse: here's, in hell's despite now,
King Charles!
III.
To whom used my boy George quaff else,
By the old fool's side that begot him?
For whom did he cheer and laugh else,
While Noll's damned troopers shot him?
CHORUS.---King Charles, and who'll do him right now?
King Charles, and who's ripe for fight now?
Give a rouse: here's, in hell's despite now,
King Charles!
III. BOOT AND SADDLE.
I.
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
Rescue my castle before the hot day
Brightens to blue from its silvery grey,
CHORUS.---Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
II.
Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say;
Many's the friend there, will listen and pray
``God's luck to gallants that strike up the lay---
CHORUS.---``Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!''
III.
Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay,
Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads' array:
Who laughs, ``Good fellows ere this, by my fay,
CHORUS.---``Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!''
IV.
Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and gay,
Laughs when you talk of surrendering, ``Nay!
``I've better counsellors; what counsel they?
CHORUS.---``Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!''
poem by Robert Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Horse Is A Horse
A horse is a horse and a man is a man
And neither can be the other
And each can survive but is much better
In the company of one another.
And while a horse is a horse and that is true
A horse is but a beast
As a cow is a cow, some ask how
On its flesh we should not feast?
For they do so in France as in other places
And I don't know how they can
For while a horse is a horse and is only a horse
It is less a cow than it is a man!
poem by Tomás Ó Cárthaigh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wishing I Was a Horse
I wish I could be a horse
running through endless plain
No trails and no set course
Feeling naught but wind in my mane
From the sunrise in the east
To the sunset in the west
I will run as a noble beast
While heart pounding in my chest
No man or force will ever tame me
No saddle or bridle shall I wear
As a horse I will remain free
Because as a man I feel despair
So I sit and dream about this freedom
of running through the sun and the rain
of being noble yet bound to no kingdom
As a horse with a spirit not slain
poem by Glaedr the poet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Old Chisholm Trail
Well, come along boys and listen to my tale
I'll tell you all my troubles on the ol' Chisholm Trail
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea, youpy yea
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea.
I started up the trail October twenty-third
Started up the trail with the U-2 herd
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea, youpy yea
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea.
On a ten dollar horse and a forty dollar saddle
Started out punchin' them long horn cattle
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea, youpy yea
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea.
With my seat in the saddle and my hand on the horn
I'm the best dang cowboy that was ever born
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea, youpy yea
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea.
It's cloudy in the west and lookin' like rain
And my danged old slicker's in the wagon again
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea, youpy yea
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea.
The wind began to blow and the rain began to fall
And it looked like we were gonna lose 'em all
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea, youpy yea
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea.
No chaps, no slickers and it's pouring rain
I swear I'll never night herd again
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea, youpy yea
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea.
I cripple on my horse and I don't know how
Roping these long horn U-2 cows
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea, youpy yea
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea.
Well, I went to the boss to draw my roll
And the boss had me fugured nine dollars in the hole
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea, youpy yea
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea.
Well, me and the boss we had a little spat
So I hit him in the face with my ten gallon hat
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea, youpy yea
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea.
The boss said to me, ''Well, I'll fire you
Not only you but the whole darn crew.''
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea, youpy yea
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea.
I'll sell my horse, I'll sell my saddle
And you can drive all your long horn cattle
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea, youpy yea
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea.
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea, youpy yea
Come a-ti yi youpy, youpy yea...
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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About The Good Quality
He is sincere who
Is calculative or
Lacks faith in himself.
He is faithful who
Is purposeful or
Lacks faith in himself.
Good quality
Is a strategy
Or from weakness.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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