Tails From Provence

Why do I like horses?
I reckon I must be mad.
My mother wasn’t horsey
And neither was my dad.

But the madness hit me early
And it hit me like a curse.
And I’ve never gotten better
In fact I’ve gotten worse.

My stables are immaculate.
My house is like a hovel.
Last year for my birthday
I got a brand new shovel.

I hardly read a paper
But I know who’s sold their horse
And I wouldn’t watch the news
If Mr. Ed was on, of course.

One eye’s always on the heavens
But my washing waves in vain
As I rush to get the horses in
In case it’s gonna rain.

And though they’re wearing 15 rugs,
The best that you can get,
I bring them in to keep them dry
While I get soaking wet.

I spend up every cent I’ve got
On horsey stuff for sure.
I buy fancy rugs and fancy rugs,
And then I by some more.

I should have had that hair cut
Or bought that nice blue shirt
At least it wouldn’t be now
Ripped to shreds and in the dirt.

I can’t make a bloody sponge cake
I don’t even try
But I can back a car and trailer
In the twinkling of an eye.

It’s pants and R.M. boots
That I live in night and day
And that smell of sweaty horses
Just doesn’t wash away.

Once in every now and then
I can dress up for a ball.
Make up and a hairdo
With high heel shoes and all.

I ache from long forgotten falls.
My knees have got no skin.
My toes have gone a funny shape.
From being squashed again.

But late at night, when all is still
And I’ve gone to give them hay,
I touch their velvet softness
And my worries float away.

They give a gentle nicker
And they nuzzle through my hair
And I know it’s where my heart is
More than anywhere.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m not sure who the author is but Liz over at Equine Ink said that it’s attributed to NZ para rider Rachel Shiree Stock.  If you can confirm or deny this, please leave a comment!