ramblings and things
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.
Stallion Man