Remember the stories our Grandmothers tell,
Of the years gone by and the fear of Hell,
Of a young man courting a pretty belle,
And of ladies riding ponies?
I can picture those times so easily,
When a young boy bounced on his daddy’s knee,
And children played so innocently,
And nature ruled the forces,
While gentlemen rode horses.
But then came the age of industry
On the heels of winged technology,
And it saddened my heart eternally,
When they changed wild rivers courses,
And the people rode iron horses.
And even yet, that mighty steed
Has been cast aside for a newer breed
That soars with greater ease and speed,
And conveys us through our courses,
While we dream of riding horses.
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