There’s something about
The way that it stands
And the way that it listens
As the clock ticks its hands
And its dewy yard glistens
When it’s filled to the gills
With the dusty earth screaming
With the noise and the poise
Of it taking hoof beatings
There’s something about
The way that it blows
And the way that it sounds
As it holds all it knows
In its gramineous bounds
When it’s blessed to the crest
With sleek equine barrels
And crammed to the jambs
With sweet raucous carols
There’s something about
The way that it hugs
The weariest soul
With plushy crushed rugs
And a long hearty skoal
On a lengthy cold night
When you don’t wish to roam
But long for the light
As it welcomes you home
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