Snorse - Poem by Ima Ryma
This here horse is a horse of course,
And a stallion importantly.
But I'm stuck with mean Missus horse
For breeding purposes to be.
Better than going gelding way,
Castrated out of scoring prime.
So when asleep I'm so okay
With dreaming of hot filly time.
In fact that's what I'm dreaming now.
A fine filly to fill my bill.
But my dream does turn bad and how!
I must awake before I'm ill.
Neigh nay, the mean Missus is there,
And I am having a nightmare.
Comments about Snorse by Ima Ryma
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye