It hasn’t stopped raining since Tuesday,
I’m soaked from my boots to my halter,
I’m glad that I’m 17 hands,
‘Cos I’m up to my fetlocks in water.
I’m wearing an oversized Rambo,
So I can’t say I’m really that fussed,
My body is dry in this waterproof rug,
But my shoes have started to rust.
The river has broken it’s banks,
The water is not getting lower,
My stable stands out like a great big ark,
And so all I need now is a Noah.
The grass is now 10 inches under,
Of grazing there isn’t a hope,
I’m getting a little bit worried,
Ah! here comes a man with a rope.
We are wading back to the yard,
Did I splash you? I’m ever so sorry,
No trouble loading today,
Just open the back of that lorry.
Just like my wilder cousins,
We are heading for much higher plains,
People are no different from horses,
We are both controlled by the rains (reins).
By John Peters