Endurance.Net Ridecamp Archives

We'd all tweak this just a bit, but the sentiment fits (except for the ball part)

 

But the madness hit me early
And it hit me like a curse.
And there's no sign of getting better
In fact it's getting worse.

My stables are immaculate.
My house is like a heap.
Last year to mark my birthday
I got an extra hour of sleep.

I hardly read a paper
But I know who sold their horse
And the News is totally ignored
When showjumping's on, of course.

I always watch the heavens
But my washing flaps in vain
As I rush to get the horses in
At the sign of coming rain.

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

I spend my every penny
On horsey stuff for sure.
I buy fancy rugs and fancy rugs,
And then I buy some more.

I should have had my hair cut
Or bought that warm blue scarf
Although by now it'd be a rag
And brown, and ripped in half.

I can't make a bloody sponge cake
Or soufflés bedecked with nuts
But I can glide a horsebox
Around all the farmyard ruts.

It's jodhs and steel-toe 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 dress up for a ball.
My nails are clean, my dress is sleek
With high heel shoes and shawl.

I ache from long forgotten falls.
My knees are skinned and raw.
My toes were long ago squashed flat.
And I'm always saddle sore.

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

They give a gentle whinny
And they nuzzle to my face
And this is where I want to be
There is no other place.

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