How many years have I not known the yearly winter trudge
Through mud to do the horses, sometimes liquid, sometimes fudge
It often starts in early fall and slows us grooms right down
With lots of extra brushing off and washing greys, now brown!
Why do they feel the need to roll in sloppy, liquid goo?
Then come inside and trash their beds, then have a pee, then poo?
While catching in, it sometimes comes to pass that, turning round
In gateways, poached by speeding hooves, a welly can be found
To get sucked off by clinging mud, which can prove to be testing.
To balance on one leg as hyper equines start protesting
That the wind is strong, the air is cold or something is so scary
And suddenly your stress expands your expletive vocabulary!
We dread the winter every year when the horses get uptight
But it’s worth it when the summer comes ‘cause it’s all forgotten. Right???
By Pam Neill
