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So, when I grew to be a man,
I vowed that I would be More careful of the horse I rode
And faithfully served me; No empty stomach should he have,
No flies should sting and goad The goodly steed that I would have
To bear me on the road.
Today I ride with greater ease
Than gran'dad ever knew, And make the miles along the road
As he could never do. My horse is " tired," I'll admit,
The livelong day and night, And yet his gait is just the same,
And he as fresh and bright.
He goes forever and a day,
And never wants a feed, But often needs a rubbing down—
This tireless " tired " steed. Yet, when my horse gets out of wind,
He stops right then and there, And one must blow for such a horse
A fresh supply of air.
He runs with people who are wise, Yet he is often green;