The ride to bumpville
Play that my knee was a calico mare
Saddled and bridled for Bumpville;
Leap to the back of this steed, if you dare,
And gallop away to Bumpville!
I hope you'll be sure to sit fast in your seat,
For this calico mare is prodigiously fleet,
And many adventures you're likely to meet
As you journey along to Bumpville.
This calico mare both gallops and trots
While whisking you off to Bumpville;
She paces, she shies, and she stumbles, in spots,
In the tortuous road to Bumpville;
And sometimes this strangely mercurial steed
Will suddenly stop and refuse to proceed,
Which, all will admit, is vexatious indeed,
When one is en route to Bumpville!
She's scared of the cars when the engine goes "Toot!"
Down by the crossing at Bumpville;
You'd better look out for that treacherous brute
Bearing you off to Bumpville!
With a snort she rears up on her hindermost heels,
And executes jigs and Virginia reels -
Words fail to explain how embarrassed one feels
Dancing so wildly to Bumpville!
It's bumpytybump and it's jiggytyjog,
Journeying on to Bumpville
It's over the hilltop and down through the bog
You ride on your way to Bumpville;
It's rattletybang over boulder and stump,
There are rivers to ford, there are fences to jump,
And the corduroy road it goes bumpytybump,
Mile after mile to bumpville!
Perhaps you'll observe it's no easy thing
Making the journey to Bumpville,
So I think, on the whole, it were prudent to bring
An end to this ride to Bumpville;
For, though she has uttered no protest or plaint,
The calico mare must be blowing and faint -
What's more to the point, I'm blowed if I ain't!
So play we have got to Bumpville!
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Calicoe Pie
Calico Pie,
The little Birds fly
Down to the calico tree,
Their wings were blue,
And they sang 'Tilly-loo!'
Till away they flew,
And they never came back to me!
They never came back!
They never came back!
They never came back to me!
Calico Jam,
The little Fish swam
Over the syllabub sea,
He took off his hat
To the Sole and the Sprat,
And the Willeby-wat,
But he never came back to me!
He never came back!
He never came back!
He never came back to me!
Calico Ban,
The little Mice ran,
To be ready in time for tea,
Flippity-flup,
They drank it all up,
And danced in the cup,
But they never came back to me!
They never came back!
They never came back!
They never came back to me!
Calico Drum,
The Grasshoppers come,
The Butterfly, Beetle, and Bee,
Over the ground,
Around and around,
With a hop and a bound -
But they never came back!
They never came back!
They never came back!
They never came back to me!
poem by Edward Lear
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Calico Cat
I walk down the road
And what do I see?
A Calico cat is
looking at me.
I smile at the cat
So refreshingly free.
I sit down and wait
And he deigns to come see.
I ask why his name
Is the Calico Cat.
He rubs on my knee
And he says 'it's just that'
For the Calico Cat
Is not commonly seen.
Don't you know why we're so called?
Just where have you been?
I had to admit I never had heard
Why the Calico Cat was so named.
He flicked up his tail,
Said 'don't be ashamed,
I'll tell you the story'.
The word on the street
Is uttered in whispers
These cats are elite.
The legends do tell
Of the history true
That the Calico Cat
Carries blood only blue.
For he once did a favour
For the King and the Queen.
When his task was complete
Such reverence was seen.
Honoured in the circles
Of royalty was he
And frequently sat
On the pretty queen's knee.
But the secret of trust
He will carry to grave
For the Calico Cat
In whose honour was gave.
In awe and in wonder
Regarded was he,
And to this day the Calico
Still sits on 'the knee'
So hush little darlings
As the tale will be told
And we'll all keep the secret
To have and to hold.
So his story he told me,
Then he went on his way
And I never was wiser
To the end of my day.
The tale of the Calico cat
Is oft relayed,
But the secret of such
In the closing is laid.
poem by Rosi Caswell
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Saddled On the Back of a Steed
Saddled on the back of a steed she is.
Moistered from a heated sweat.
She wishes to tease as she rides.
Butt naked on hilltops.
And loving the fast ride to the bottom,
Where she is dropped.
And she lays next to her muscled steed.
Fantasizing the next throb she gets,
When thrusted with a hustle nonstop.
To gaze and show an afterglow.
That satisfies her peacefully.
As she watches her steed thighs,
Pass her swiftly.
With a mighty galloped gale.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Windy Nights
Whenever the moon and stars are set,
Whenever the wind is high,
All night long in the dark and wet,
A man goes riding by.
Late in the night when the fires are out,
Why does he gallop and gallop about?
Whenever the trees are crying aloud,
And ships are tossed at sea,
By, on the highway, low and loud,
By at the gallop goes he.
By at the gallop he goes, and then
By he comes back at the gallop again.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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By Flood and Field 2
They have saddled a hundred milk-white steeds,
They have bridled a hundred black.—Old Ballad.
'He turned in his saddle, now follow who dare,
I ride for my country, quoth . . .'—Lawrence.
I REMEMBER the lowering wintry morn,
And the mist on the Cotswold hills,
Where I once heard the blast of the huntsman's horn,
Not far from the seven rills.
Jack Esdale was there, and Hugh St. Clair,
Bob Chapman and Andrew Kerr,
And big George Griffiths on Devil-May-Care,
And—black Tom Oliver.
And one who rode on a dark-brown steed,
Clean jointed, sinewy, spare,
With the lean game head of the Blacklock breed,
And the resolute eye that loves the lead,
And the quarters massive and square—
A tower of strength, with a promise of speed
(There was Celtic blood in the pair).
I remember how merry a start we got,
When the red fox broke from the gorse,
In a country so deep, with a scent so hot,
That the hound could outpace the horse ;
I remember how few in the front rank show'd,
How endless appeared the tail,
On the brown hill side, where we cross'd the road,
And headed towards the vale.
The dark-brown steed on the left was there,
On the right was a dappled grey,
And between the pair, on a chestnut mare,
The duffer who writes this lay.
What business had 'this child' there to ride ?
But little or none at all ;
Yet I held my own for a while in 'the pride
That goeth before a fall.'
Though rashness can hope for but one result,
We are heedless when fate draws nigh us,
And the maxim holds good, 'Quem perdere vult
Deus, dementat prius.'
The right hand man to the left hand said,
As down in the vale we went,
'Harden your heart like a millstone, Ned,
And set your face as flint ;
Solid and tall is the rasping wall
That stretches before us yonder ;
You must have it at speed or not at all,
'Twere better to halt than to ponder,
For the stream runs wide on the take-off side,
And washes the clay bank under ;
Here goes for a pull, 'tis a madman's ride,
And a broken neck if you blunder.'
No word in reply his comrade spoke,
Nor waver'd nor once look'd round,
But I saw him shorten his horse's stroke
As we splash'd through the marshy ground ;
I remember the laugh that all the while
On his quiet features play'd :—
So he rode to his death, with that careless smile,
In the van of the 'Light Brigade' ;
So stricken by Russian grape, the cheer
Rang out, while he toppled back,
From the shattered lungs as merry and clear
As it did when it roused the pack.
Let never a tear his memory stain,
Give his ashes never a sigh,
One of many who perished, Not in vain,
As a type of our chivalry—
I remember one thrust he gave to his hat,
And two to the flanks of the brown,
And still as a statue of old he sat,
And he shot to the front, hands down ;
I remember the snort and the stag-like bound
Of the steed six lengths to the fore,
And the laugh of the rider while, landing sound,
He turned in his saddle and glanced around ;
I remember—but little more,
Save a bird's-eye gleam of the dashing stream
A jarring thud on the wall,
A shock and the blank of a nightmare's dream—
I was down with a stunning fall
poem by Adam Lindsay Gordon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It Doesn't Seem It But Believe
It doesn't seem it but believe,
The time has flown so fast.
It doesn't seem it but believe,
The time has flown so fast.
One minute we are wiping a nose.
And the next second...
It seems,
We're now all old.
It doesn't seem that the time has flown away so fast.
It doesn't seem it but believe the time has flown so fast.
It doesn't seem it but believe the time has flown so fast.
Was it yesterday we said hello,
To the one we wanted to do that...good rock and roll.
It doesn't seem that the time has flown away so fast.
It doesn't seem it,
But believe...
The time has flown so fast.
It doesn't seem it,
But believe...
Some thoughts we have we should let pass.
You cain't change a game played when it's over.
Nor can you redefine a lover who has gone to another.
Yes as cruel as it can be,
To see a time we lived to see flee fast.
From a rocking seat!
Yes as cruel as it can be,
To see a time we lived to see flee fast.
It doesn't seem it but believe it that the time has flown so fast
From a rocking seat!
You cain't change a game played when it's over.
Nor can you redefine a lover who has gone to another.
It doesn't seem that the time has flown away so fast.
From a rocking seat!
It doesn't seem that the time has flown away so fast.
It doesn't seem it,
But believe...
The time has flown so fast.
From a rocking seat!
It doesn't seem it,
But believe...
Some thoughts we should have let go pass.
From a rocking seat!
And there we sit by a window looking older.
With plans to feed a cat,
At the back door.
Who meows for leftovers.
It doesn't seem that the time has flown away so fast.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh Yes I Love My Horse
Oh yes I love my horse,
and my horse she doth love me.
Riding o'er the countryside,
beneath me my trusty steed.
We ride fast through sunny days,
for my little mare always enjoys to play.
She may buck and she may rear,
but never has anything been so dear;
As the horse I cherish,
and know oneday shall perish.
I enjoy each moment that we get,
always pulling gently on her bit.
For my horse is my kin,
not to be purchased by any bid.
For as a young girl I slept by her side,
willing to battle any that would cut our tie.
So for now we frolick merrily,
each day together a special rarity.
Until the day the good Lord calls her up,
and I must find solace in her son.
poem by Kayla Lonkard
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Dyes Cast
Each night
As he drops his head
To the deep dream
Of the dark bed,
A shape beckons him
Wellaway
From the starlight
And the dim day.
A mare
Black as a spade, calls
From the dark hill
As the wind falls,
The reeds mutter
The night is black
As he leaps blind
To the mare’s back.
Then like the roar
Of an ill wind
Or a black flame
From the devil’s kiln,
The mare speeds
To the night’s work
By the old mill
And the dark Kirk.
Shapes flutter
And leap alight
Before they sputter
And, out of sight
Disport and mutter
Of black arts
To see the mare
And the rider pass.
Hour on hour
He clings to scenes
Of dark images,
Wild dreams
And chance friends
From the dead past
In the grim haunts
Of dyes cast.
His face burns
And tears stream
In the long night
Of the dark dream,
He clings grim
To the mare’s back
For his soul’s sake
And a long lack.
The day brinks
At night’s mist;
‘There may be nothing
More than this, ’
The mare fades
From his wide eyes –
But the thoughts bide,
And the old lies.
‘There may be nothing
More than this! ’
And his mind seeks
The mare, the mist;
‘There may be nought
But the dead past,
And the dark haunts
Of dyes cast.’
27 December 1978
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde
The first time we met you were a kennel maid,
You gave me a tip I got me forecast paid,
You were holding a greyhound in trap number one,
Your white coat was shining in the afternoon sun.
Now we're both together,
We're never gonna break apart, no no,
'Cause we're a happy couple you and me,
With a greyhound at either knee.
I'll have ten shillings to win on Camera Flash, young man,
What dog's that, it's a deuce, look at it.
There was nothing in my life bigger than beer,
There was nothing in my life bigger than beer,
'Ceptin' you, little darling,
'Ceptin' you, little darling,
We're a happy couple you and me,
With a greyhound at either knee.
We go to the dog track on Saturday night,
We put all our money on a dog that we like,
A kiss and a cuddle, a hot meat pie,
Two dollar tickets and a starry sky.
There was nothing in my life bigger than beer,
There was nothing in my life bigger than beer,
'Ceptin' you, little darling,
'Ceptin' you, little darling,
We're a happy couple you and me,
With a baby on either knee.
Yes it's you little darling,
Yes it's you little darling,
Now it's you little darling,
Now it's you.
Girl, where's me wage packet ?????,
Ah I'll put twenty-five knicker please on Gallop Printer,
Oh, I hope the wife don't find out,
Yes, it's sure to win, isn't it,
Yes, I know, it's a good dog, I saw it run at White City,
Just last week, broke the record, Gallop Printer,
Nice dog, yes, lovely form, lovely buttocks.
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bridled In Stables Stifled
Let's face it...
If it was meant for me,
To be someone else...
I would not occupy this space.
To breakaway from its boundaries.
So blessed am I,
To have met and known people...
Who are determine to be themselves,
It has given me more encouragement...
To identify my own footsteps placed with my pace.
Let's face it...
There are those living to impress.
With a wish to address themselves with titles.
And then there are those who are given labels,
By others they have yet to meet or will ever know...
To keep them saddled and bridled in stables stifled.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bridled
Bridled on roads no longer disturbing.
With a weakened back patched...
From shoulders hunched,
And freed of carrying ancestral anger launched.
I am my own strong buck and steed.
On a tight lipped mission,
I understand and that is all I need!
As I move against the grain...
Others follow with lightened loads.
I look for no safe haven to rest.
None there ever showed!
My mission is explicit.
One sometimes I wished away.
But I have accepted,
Without regret on my path...
Certain 'gifts' I must deliver,
Without hesitation or doubts that last.
And 'why' is this?
I do not ask!
My task is to accomplish.
Whether or not tears fall or I bleed.
To look forward on my journey here,
And not what others do...
Or what I've done in my past,
The one I leave behind me fast!
Looking ahead I must...
With a trust that I grasp!
To make myself and my Master pleased.
And to breathe without sighing or grieving...
At last!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Rider Of The Knee
Knightly Rider of the Knee
Of Proud-prancing Unclery!
Gaily mount, and wave the sign
Of that mastery of thine.
Pat thy steed and turn him free,
Knightly Rider of the Knee!
Sit thy charger as a throne--
Lash him with thy laugh alone:
Sting him only with the spur
Of such wit as may occur,
Knightly Rider of the Knee,
In thy shriek of ecstasy.
Would, as now, we might endure,
Twain as one--thou miniature
Ruler, at the rein of me--
Knightly Rider of the Knee!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Unshriven
Oh ! the sun rose on the lea, and the bird sang merrilie,
And the steed stood ready harness'd in the hall.
And he left his lady's bower, and he sought the eastern tower,
And he lifted cloak and weapon from the wall.
'We were wed but yester-noon, must we separate so soon,
Must you travel unassoiled and, aye, unshriven,
With the blood stain on your hand, and the red streak on your brand,
And your guilt all unconfess'd and unforgiven ?'
'Tho' it were but yester-even we were wedded, still unshriven,
Across the moor this morning I must ride ;
I must gallop fast and straight, for my errand will not wait ;
Fear naught, I shall return at eventide.'
'If I fear, it is for thee, thy weal is dear to me,
Yon moor with retribution seemeth rife ;
As we've sown so must we reap, and I've started in my sleep
At the voice of the avenger, 'Life for life.' '
'My arm is strong, I ween, and my trusty blade is keen,
And the courser that I ride is swift and sure,
And I cannot break my oath, though to leave thee I am loath,
There is one that I must meet upon the moor.'
. . . . . . .
Oh ! the sun shone on the lea, and the bird sang merrilie,
Down the avenue and through the iron gate,
Spurr'd and belted, so he rode, steel to draw and steel to goad,
And across the moor he gallop'd fast and straight.
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
Oh ! the sun shone on the lea, and the bird sang full of glee,
Ere the mists of evening gather'd chill and grey ;
But the wild bird's merry note on the deaf ear never smote,
And the sunshine never warmed the lifeless clay.
Ere the sun began to droop, or the mist began to stoop,
The youthful bride lay swooning in the hall ;
Empty saddle on his back, broken bridle hanging slack,
The steed returned full gallop to the stall.
Oh ! the sun sank in the sea, and the wind wailed drearilie ;
Let the bells in yonder monastery toll,
For the night rack nestles dark round the body stiff and stark,
And unshriven to its Maker flies the soul.
poem by Adam Lindsay Gordon
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Bubble Pop Electric
I'm empty, I need fulfilling, yes I do love
To the ceiling, when I do love
I get this feeling when I'm in love
I'm restless, can't you see I try my bestest
To be good girl, because it's just us
So take me now and do me justice
I'm waiting patiently
Anticipating your arrival
And I'm hating
It takes so long to get to my house
To take me out
Tonight, I'm gonna give you all my love in the back seat
Bubble pop electric, bubble pop electric
Gonna speed it down and slow it up in the back seat
Bubble pop electric
Uh-oh, in the back seat
Ok now, I understand he's on his way now
But jeez Louise, I mean today now
I can't wait, I wanna play now
I'm antsy
Bubble pop electric pansies
My sweet tooth, I want your candy
The Queen of Eng would say it randy
I'm itchy
I wish you would come and scratch me
Tonight I'm falling, won't you catch me
Swoop on by, so you can snatch me
And take me out
Tonight, I'm gonna give you all my love in the back seat
Bubble pop electric, bubble pop electric
Gonna speed it down and slow it up in the back seat
Bubble pop electric
Uh-oh, in the back seat
The need to be satisfied
Come pick me up, I want a ride
Hurry, hurry, come to me
Drive in movie
Drive in, move me
Drive into me
Bubble pop electric
You've gotta get it
(Straight to me, drive in movie)
Take it to the back seat
Run it like a track meet
(Come to me, drive in movie)
[2x]
Tonight, I'm gonna give you all my love in the back seat
Bubble pop electric, bubble pop electric
Gonna speed it down and slow it up in the back seat
Bubble pop electric
Uh-oh, in the back seat
[2x]
song performed by by Gwen Stefani
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ride At Twilight
I slipped out
To the barn one night,
'Cause I just couldn't rest.
I slipped on my boots,
And on my hat,
And latched the door
Real tight.
Next I ran across the yard,
Down the lane,
And scaled the fence.
Once in the barn,
I switched on the light.
Then I saddled up my mare,
And rode into the night.
I rode hard,
We rode long,
Me, my horse, And I.
I feel the wind
As we whip around,
The thunder of hoofbeats
Is the only sound,
Beneath the silvery moon.
We Leap a stream,
And dodge a tree.
Hurricane is lathered with sweat,
And off her rises steam.
She suddenly halts!
She's suddenly alert!
Her ears swivel back,
And now forth,
Standing stock still,
She listens-
A sound makes her spook!
She takes off with
Me, herself, and all!
She's heared the cry -
A wildcat's call!
She races from jeopardy,
At a frighening flow.
By tightening up the slack
In the reigns,
I manage to make her slow.
Now we walk around the corner,
And lo!
What do we find?
'Tis just a wildcat cub,
An orphan left behind.
I dismount,
And walk around,
To where he does lie.
When I look upon him,
I find,
That he is yet blind.
The cub is hungry,
Lone,
He's mine.
I try to mount,
But side stepping,
She shies.
My cub, my mare,
And I-
We're safe
And sound.
We are in need of rest.
So I mount,
Facing West.
We follow the silver lining,
Homeward bound.
poem by Macy Dvirnak
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dare I Hope?
Dare I hope to hope?
Is it safe? Is it right?
Am I hoping for nothing
But a black and empty night?
Hope should make me happy.
I should laugh, sing, and dance
Because I am hoping. Right?
Ha! Not a chance.
How is it that hope can leave me
Trembling in the darkness?
How is it that something so “good”
Should leave me feeling helpless?
Dare I hope to hope?
What difference does it make?
Fate will be fate in the end,
It will either “make or break.”
Does Fate regard my hope?
Does She listen? Or care?
Am I shooting for a star that
Simply isn’t there?
I cannot know! Oh, God
Why must I struggle with
This doubt that pulls at me
Rends me, limb from limb?
What sort of hope leaves pain
Where it should instead leave joy?
Is this hope at all? Or perhaps
Some wicked demon’s ploy?
I cannot know! Dear heaven!
How can I even begin to dare
To hope for something – anything?
Is no assurance there?
No promise? No guarantee?
I cannot stand it! I cannot!
The doubt is a plague
In my every thought.
Dare I hope to hope
In a hope that leaves me dry
And lost? How can I dare
To hope in hope? How can I?
poem by Sophia White
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dare I Hope?
Dare I hope to hope?
Is it safe? Is it right?
Am I hoping for nothing
But a black and empty night?
Hope should make me happy.
I should laugh, sing, and dance
Because I am hoping. Right?
Ha! Not a chance.
How is it that hope can leave me
Trembling in the darkness?
How is it that something so 'good'
Should leave me feeling helpless?
Dare I hope to hope?
What difference does it make?
Fate will be fate in the end,
It will either 'make or break.'
Does Fate regard my hope?
Does She listen? Or care?
Am I shooting for a star that
Simply isn't there?
I cannot know! Oh, God
Why must I struggle with
This doubt that pulls at me
Rends me, limb from limb?
What sort of hope leaves pain
Where it should instead leave joy?
Is this hope at all? Or perhaps
Some wicked demon's ploy?
I cannot know! Dear heaven!
How can I even begin to dare
To hope for something – anything?
Is no assurance there?
No promise? No guarantee?
I cannot stand it! I cannot!
The doubt is a plague
In my every thought.
Dare I hope to hope
In a hope that leaves me dry
And lost? How can I dare
To hope in hope? How can I?
Sophia White
poem by Lolita Hiroshi
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Sleeping In My Car
Ill tell you what Ive done / Ill tell you what Ill do / been driving all nite just to get close to you / baby babe - Im moving so fast / youd better come on.
The moon is alright / the freeways heading south / my hard is going boom! / theres a strange taste in my mouth / baby babe - Im moving real fast / so try to hold on / try to hold on!
Sleeping in my car - I will undress you / sleeping in my car - I will caress you / staying in the back seat of my car making up.
So come out tonight / Ill take you for a ride / this steamy ol wagon / the radio is getting wild / baby babe - were moving so fast / I try to hang on / try to hang on!
Sleeping in my car - I will undress you / sleeping in my car - I will caress you / staying in the back seat of my car making love, oh yea!
Sleeping in my car - I will possess you / sleeping in my car - certainly bless you / laying in the back seat of my car making up.
The night is so pretty and so young / the night is so pretty and so young / so very young...
Sleeping in my car - I will undress you / sleeping in my car - I will caress you / staying in the back seat of my car making love to you.
Sleeping in my car - I will possess you / sleeping in my car - certainly bless you / laying in the back seat of my car making up.
I will undress you / I will undress you.
The night is so pretty and so young.
song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Faithless Knight
THE lady she sate in her bower alone,
And she gaz'd from the lattice window high,
Where a white steed's hoofs were ringing on,
With a beating heart, and a smother'd sigh.
Why doth she gaze thro' the sunset rays--
Why doth she watch that white steed's track--
While a quivering smile on her red lip plays?
'Tis her own dear knight--will he not look back?
The steed flew fast--and the rider past--
Nor paus'd he to gaze at the lady's bower;
The smile from her lip is gone at last--
There are tears on her cheek--like the dew on a flower!
And 'plague on these foolish tears,' she said,
'Which have dimm'd the view of my young love's track;
For oh! I am sure, while I bent my head,
It was then--it was then that my knight look'd back.'
On flew that steed with an arrow's speed;
He is gone--and the green boughs wave between:
And she sighs, as the sweet breeze sighs through a reed,
As she watches the spot where he last has been.
Oh! many a sun shall rise and set,
And many an hour may she watch in vain,
And many a tear shall that soft cheek wet,
Ere that steed and its rider return again!
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dat Ol' Mare O' Mine
Want to trade me, do you, mistah? Oh, well, now, I reckon not,
W'y you could n't buy my Sukey fu' a thousan' on de spot.
Dat ol' mare o' mine?
Yes, huh coat ah long an' shaggy, an' she ain't no shakes to see;
Dat's a ring-bone, yes, you right, suh, an' she got a on'ry knee,
But dey ain't no use in talkin', she de only hoss fu' me,
Dat ol' mare o' mine.
Co'se, I knows dat Suke 's contra'y, an' she moughty ap' to vex;
But you got to mek erlowance fu' de nature of huh sex;
Dat ol' mare o' mine.
Ef you pull her on de lef han'; she plum 'termined to go right,
A cannon could n't skeer huh, but she boun' to tek a fright
At a piece o' common paper, or anyt'ing whut's white,
Dat ol' mare o' mine.
Wen my eyes commence to fail me, dough, I trus'es to huh sight,
An' she 'll tote me safe an' hones' on de ve'y da'kes' night,
Dat ol' mare o' mine.
Ef I whup huh, she jes' switch huh tail, an' settle to a walk,
Ef I whup huh mo', she shek huh haid, an' lak ez not, she balk.
But huh sense ain't no ways lackin', she do evah t'ing but talk,
Dat ol' mare o' mine.
But she gentle ez a lady w'en she know huh beau kin see.
An' she sholy got mo' gumption any day den you or me,
Dat ol' mare o' mine.
She's a leetle slow a-goin,' an' she moughty ha'd to sta't,
But we 's gittin' ol' togathah, an' she 's closah to my hea't,
An' I does n't reckon, mistah, dat she 'd sca'cely keer to pa't;
Dat ol' mare o' mine.
W'y I knows de time dat cidah 's kin' o' muddled up my haid,
Ef it had n't been fu' Sukey hyeah, I reckon I 'd been daid;
Dat ol' mare o' mine.
But she got me in de middle o' de road an' tuk me home,
An' she would n't let me wandah, ner she would n't let me roam,
Dat's de kin' o' hoss to tie to w'en you 's seed de cidah's foam,
Dat ol' mare o' mine.
You kin talk erbout yo' heaven, you kin talk erbout yo' hell,
Dey is people, dey is hosses, den dey's cattle, den dey's--well--
Dat ol' mare o' mine;
She de beatenes' t'ing dat evah struck de medders o' de town,
An' aldough huh haid ain't fittin' fu' to waih no golden crown,
D' ain't a blessed way fu' Petah fu' to tu'n my Sukey down,
Dat ol' mare o' mine.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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