'You horsey people are quite mad', I hear from many sources.
No lunch in town, followed by a shopping spree,
But cheese on toast, made in haste, is lunch for you and me.
But those who never rise at dawn to hear that friendly neigh,
Nor ride across the emerald turf upon a Summer day,
Will never share the joy on the day a foal is born,
Nor experience the thrill of the First String out at dawn.
Our protégés we watch until the time of their first show,
Perhaps we are just slightly mad but they will never know,
The smell of hay, a stable warm, a friend at rest and play,
Perchance to dream and fall in love with chestnutm black or bay.
No lunch in town, followed by a shopping spree,
But cheese on toast, made in haste, is lunch for you and me.
But those who never rise at dawn to hear that friendly neigh,
Nor ride across the emerald turf upon a Summer day,
Will never share the joy on the day a foal is born,
Nor experience the thrill of the First String out at dawn.
Our protégés we watch until the time of their first show,
Perhaps we are just slightly mad but they will never know,
The smell of hay, a stable warm, a friend at rest and play,
Perchance to dream and fall in love with chestnutm black or bay.