Ode to Roany Pony

Roany Pony, you hairy beast

You eat green grass for your feast

Your hooves will hurt when you founder

You’re probably a 600-pounder

You’re hard to catch, a pain in the neck

My trying to ride you is a wreck

You act like I’ll whack you and some days I’d like to

But for the kids you’ll be perfect, just like a statue

You’re our precious pony, not fit for the show ring

But your hair falling out is a sure sign of spring!