Two Poems

Joker As Told

Not a latch or lock could hold
a little horse we had,
not a gate or paddock.

He liked to get in the house.
Walk in, and you were liable
to find him in the kitchen
dribbling over the table
with a heap behind him

or you'd catch a hoof
right where it hurt bad
when you went in your bedroom.

He grew up with us kids,
played with us till he got rough.
Round then, they cut him,

but you couldn't ride him:
he'd bite your bum getting on,
...