The Old Horse

THE OLD HORSE


They were having a horse race,
In a small western town,
A lot of excitement, with
People running around.

The year was eighteen
And seventy three,
On many things here,
Folks didn't agree.

This day was different,
Most all would say,
It was sure to be Jim, on
His long legged bay.

It was just after noon,
When they came to the course,
Each cowboy mounted on
His favorite horse,

The first to show up was
A fellow named Gene,
Everyone knew his cayuse
Was mean.

They all remembered,
Was only last year,
When that horse nipped off,
The Parson's right ear.

Next to show was Conway on
A horse he called Blast
That pony was sure to not
Finish last.

Last; let me tell you, of a horse
From the East,
Poor, and bony scarred-up
Looking beast.

Did that old cowboy think,
He stood a chance?
He said “meet Thunder,
And my name is Lance.”

When the race started with
A shot from the gun,
Thunder sure proved,
He could still run.

Passing them all with
Lightning like speed
Something not lacking, in
This grand old steed.


Monty.