Mountain Ponies Poem by jerry hughes

'Line 'em up, ' the starter barks.
'We haven't got all day! '
As twenty of the Snowy's best
are gathered for the fray.

The starter fired his pistol high
and suddenly, they're off!
And twenty pairs of frenzied hooves
go thundering down the rough.

They're bunched up tight before the pass,
and leading from the sway,
the winner of last year's event,
Bob Wilson, on his bay.

A stranger on a dappled mare
rides easy in the pack.
Waiting for the moment
to let the mare attack.

They're streched out now before the climb
through stringy bark and brush,
and Wilson on his mighty bay,
rides fiercely from the push.

They forge the creek at Yabby Traps
with saddles now awash.
They're keen of eye and sure of foot
these ponies of the bush.

The stranger on his dappled mare
keep up a steady pace.
They bridge the gap to Wilson's bay
before the mountain face.

He coaxes her with, 'go on girl, '
and let's the reins go slack.
With every stride she catches up
until they clear the pack.

The steep descent down Blind Man's gorge
is treacherous that day.
The ground is hard, as hard as flint,
and doesn't suit the bay.

Wilson sees the stranger pass
upon his bonny mare,
gliding down the mountain slope
as though the ground weren't there.

He spurs the bay for extra pace,
he spurred him once again.
The big horse baulks, then trips and falls,
whinnying in pain.

The stranger and his dappled mare
are clearly out of sight,
as Wilson mounts the injured bay,
who's given up the fight.

The legend goes the stranger won,
but didn't claim the purse.
He rode for sport to prove to all,
he had the better horse.