He Is Called The Horse

Oh! If People Knew What A Comfort To A Horse A Light Hand Is.

If You In The Morning Throw Minutes Away, You Can't Pick Them Up In The Course Of A Day. You May Hurry And Scurry, And Flurry And Worry, You've Lost Them Forever, Forever And Aye.

My Troubles Are Over, And I Am Finally Home.

Good Luck Is Rather Particular Who She Rides With, And Mostly Prefers Those Who Have Got Common Sense And A Good Heart; At Least That Is My Experience.

I Must Say...that More Unmanly, Brutal Treatment Of A Little Pony It Was Never My Painful Lot To Witness; And By Giving Way To Such Passion, You Injure Your Own Character As Much, Nay More, Than You Injure Your Horse, And Remember, We Shall All Have To Be Judged According To Our Works, Whether They Be Towards Man Or Towards Beast.