Where Poetry Goes to Die: The Horse

Saturday, February 5, 2011

The Horse

I once had a horse with a toothy grin
And Jo Bob was his name-o.
J-O-B-O-B
J-O-B-O-B
J-O-B-O-B
And Jo Bob was his name-o.

This cheery horse he told good jokes

Not like David Lame-o.

L-A-M-E-O

L-A-M-E-O

L-A-M-E-O

And Lame-o was his name-o.

2 comments:

John said...: You have your work cut out if you are to become a horse whisperer.; February 5, 2011 at 5:21 PM
W.B. Picklesworth said...: I'm more of a conversationalist than a whisperer.; February 5, 2011 at 8:13 PM

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