ramblings and things

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Stallion Man



Great Grandad was a Stallion Ma

Not an oversexed being of course

Just one who visited farms 

Taking the stallion to the horse.

I can imagine the two of them 

Wandering East Riding lanes

The horse clip clopping along

Grandad holding on a tight rein.



By the time I remember him

The Shire was nearly gone

The Second Great War 

Had really moved farming on.

The day of the Shire Horse,

Long the farmer’s friend,

The ploughboy and his team,

Not long come to an end.


The big blue Fordson Major

Now ruled farm and field,

Making for faster work

And an increasing yield.

From Durham mining stock

I don't know how he came here

But according to the Census

He’d been a resident for years.



Maybe Grandma Bertha

Had caught his roving eye

Making him decide to stop

Instead of just passing by.

He seemed so very old

As I became aware

Just a part of my life 

Just always being there.


 

By the time I’d sense to ask 

Both he and Granny were gone

And in the way of the world

My life had also move along.

So now, many years older

With time to sit and ponder

I think a lot about those days

So far back in my yonder.

Think of Grandad and his stallion

In those then quiet country lanes

Great hooves clip clopping along

Held to a steady pace by the rein.



 



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Stallion Man