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Now when you cuss or make a fuss
Is often because you just seek an outlet.
'Cos some plan you had in mind, comes unstuck and then you find
Pure frustration only leads to further upset!

And if you find you're in a bind
Keep your head and try to stay above it
'Cos solution will be near, if you keep your vision clear
And not kick the dog or not tell us where to shove it.

So remember it is folly, to ever lose your "lolly"
Be reminded you are made of better stuff
Do not see "bloody red", Just stop and scratch your head
For a clearer head (and a head thet's free of dandruff).

(c) Hadley Provis  Oct 00
Left broken by the racing track,
poor Possum was a crippled hack.
The owner sneered and left him there:
"The Knackery," without a care.

But no one took the horse away;
it struggled to survive each day.
A muddy creek ran through the field;
the arid ground scarce grass did yield.

Dad saw the racehorse left behind,
and seeing no one seemed to mind
he loaded him onto the truck
which was, for Possum, best of luck.

The horse was in an utter mess,
so cowed and beaten, sheer distress
was etched in every jutting bone;
Dad could not leave him there alone.

But time does heal, and Possum thrived,
and by the time we kids arrived,
the horse was frisky, fat and sleek,
no longer was his future bleak.

We'd all take turns to have a ride,
no saddle on his chestnut hide,
and he would gallop all let out,
while we'd hold on and madly shout.

In time we'd all go back to school
to learn about the Golden rule.
Dad told us Possum moped around;
he fretted with a grief profound.

He seemed to take a shine to me,
so calm and patient he would be.
In time I rode him like a pro,
and all across the land we'd go
When I was due, he knew the date,
was always watching by the gate.
Oh, how he gleamed in midday sun,
his brown eyes twinkling, full of fun.

They say that animals don't show
emotions, but it's just not so.
That horse conveyed his thoughts to me;
a loyal friend he'd always be.<

When Mother died, and tears were shed,
his gentle lips caressed my head.
I tell you, all my grief he knew,
and did what any friend would do.

He'd snicker comfort as I wept,
and all my deepest secrets kept.
We shared such deep comraderie;
that horse meant all the world to me.

When came the time to manhood grown,
I had to make a life alone,
and Possum knew he wouldn't see
another carefree year with me.

And so it was; he died that year;
the memories still bring a tear.
I feel somehow I let him down
because I had to work in town.

But when I come to visit Dad,
and think of times when just a lad,
I hear when nights are clear and still
his whinny calling from the hill.

The day will come when he and I
will gallop o'er the moonlit sky.
We'll both be young and spry again,
a horse and boy on Heaven's plain.

V.P. Read.   23/6/2006.