Muscled, black with steel-green eye swishing through the rye grass with thoughts of mouse-and-apple pie. Tail balancing at half-mast. ...And the
I'll make love to you in all good places under black mountains in open spaces. By deep brown rivers that slither darkly through far marches where
Against the low sun racing. Bring me a wheel of oaken wood A rein of polished leather A Heavy Horse and a tumbling sky Brewing heavy weather. Bring
Spine-tingling railway sleepers Sleepy houses lying four-square and firm Orange beams divide the darkness Rumbling fit to turn the waking worm. Sliding
The leaded window opened to move the dancing candle flame And the first Moths of summer suicidal came, suicidal came. And a new breeze chattered
Keep your eyes open and prick up your ears rehearse your loudest cry. There's folk out there who would do you harm so I'll sing you no lullaby. There
I chase your every footstep and I follow every whim. When you call the tune I'm ready to strike up the battle hymn. My lady of the meadows My comber
Smile your little smile take some tea with me awhile. Brush away that black cloud from your shoulder. Twitch your whiskers. Feel that you're really
Good morning Weathercock: How did you fare last night? Did the cold wind bite you, did you face up to the fright When the leaves spin from October
world Against the low sun racing Bring me a wheel of oaken wood A rein of polished leather A Heavy Horse and a tumbling sky Brewing heavy weather
Clydesdale, the Percheron Vie with the Shire on his feathers floating. Hauling soft timber into the dusk to bed on a warm straw coating. Heavy Horses
Muscled, black with steel green eye Swishing through the rye grass With thoughts of mouse and apple pie Tail balancing at half-mast And the mouse police
I'll make love to you in all good places Under black mountains in open spaces By deep brown rivers, oh, that slither darkly Through far marches where
chest, seasoning Bring me a wheel of oaken woods A rein of polished leather A heavy horse and the tumbling sky Brewing heavy weather Heavy horses move
Clydesdale, the Percheron vie With the Shire on his feathers floating Hauling soft timber into the dusk To bed on a warm straw coating Heavy horses,
Spine-tingling railway sleepers Sleepy houses lying four-square and firm Orange beams divide the darkness Rumbling fit to turn the waking worm Sliding
