THE HEIGHT OF MY AMBITION

[Acrophobia?]

How dearly I'd love to learn riding,
And gallop the countryside round!
There is only one thing that prevents me:
A horse is so far from the ground.
A high-stepping mare would be splendid,
Or a gelding in black, bay or brown.
But when I fell off - and I should do -
I would have so far to go down.

I'd have the most sumptuous habits,
Set off with a smartly tipped topper,
But when the ground came up to meet me
I would still come a terrible cropper.
My casual clothes would be tweedy,
And a bowler would suit me just right,
But no matter how natty my clobber,
There would still be that hideous height.

I would talk horsy talk with the County,
Of snaffles and bridles and bits,
Then I'd take one look up at the saddle
And frighten myself into fits.
I'd go off on a brisk morning canter
Away o'er the Forest and heath,
If only I hadn't the worry
Of the huge gap I'd got underneath.

A horse makes me feel short and stunted,
For his back's higher up than my nose.
And he whinneys - or is it a giggle?
At the drop from his back to his toes.
I know that he's wise and he's witty,
And I think he finds me cause for mirth:
He doesn't take fright at the sight of my height.
He keeps his feet safe - on the earth.

Now, why cannot someone design me
A horse with short legs - say a span?
I could step on and off with no trouble,
Landing always quite safe on the tan.
Well, I simply must settle for walking,
Have NO picture in "Horse and Hound".
The Queen's Royal Daughter might say that I ought to,
But a horse is too far from the ground.
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