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My Horse

My old brown horse has but one ear,
One eye with which to see,
And only some short hairs appear
Where his tail used to be.

He has a classic Roman head.
Four legs of sorts—and thus
He’s still a useful quadruped,
By name Caractacus.

Some folks might say he’s not equine,
The way his napper droops,
And though his snort be gen-u-ine,
He’s rigged on barrel hoops.

He’s got the halt, he’s got the jolts,
He’s got the housemaid’s knee;
His coat is shaggy, though he moults
With continuity.

His wobblesomeness is to blame
If he is hard to follow,
For never horse was half so tame,
Nor horse’s back so hollow.

His front hoofs cover lots of ground,
And one hind leg’s peculiar;
But still his pedigree is sound
(His mother’s name was Julia).

Across his loins my wallet flaps,
Before me is my swag,
And ‘gainst his chest, secured with straps,
There ain’t no water-bag.

I sit me in the vacancy,
My chin among the flour,
And we pass through the scenery
At quite a mile an hour.

Anon I say, to cheer him up:
“My horse, thou art an ass,
To sulk like some distemper’d pup,
Because there is no grass.

“One of these days I’ll find a job,
And you will get a spell;
I’m sure you’ll fetch quite twenty bob
When you are fat and well.

“There are some rivers in this part
Could wet the two of us,
And grass enough to fill a cart—
Gee up, Caractacus!”

I haul upon the steering gear
To elevate his head;
He agitates his only ear,
And staggers back instead.

I whack him with an infant log,
I bob me high and low,
As one who rides a jiggery-jog,
To make the crawler go.

I click my tongue, and hiss and shoo,
Gesticulate and swear;
I pound him with my leathers, too,
And pull his caudal hair.

He never alters in his stride
(He takes quite ten a minute):
He merely snorts and swerves aside
To show that he’s agin it.

I settle down unto the trip,
And whistle “Yankee Doodle”:
And then he treads upon his lip,
And chucks the whole caboodle.

• • • •

If anybody wants to buy
A low-priced household neddy,
I’ve got that article, and I
Can guarantee he’s steady.

Though parts of him are lost, and he
May look somewhat peculiar,
He’s got at least some pedigree
(His mother’s name was Julia).

He has a classic Roman head,
Four legs of sorts—and thus
He’s gen-u-ine, and, till he’s dead,
His name’s Caractacus.

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