The Old Man And His Horse And Gig Poem by Don Stratford

He sat upon the wooden seat
He sat tall and proud and wise
As he worked his way along the road
Heading up towards the rise

This old man and his horse and gig
Were legends here abouts?
His old parched skin and craggy face
Showed he had received his share of clouts

His weather beaten features
They could tell a yarn or two
From working way down in the mines
To fixin’ up a shoe

Sun tanned lines etched deep within
His life’s work for all to see
There was not a lie from this old bloke
He was as straight as straight could be

His broad brimmed hat was worn and holed
That matched his whole attire
But he would have it no other way
There was nothing else to desire

With skill that came from gentleness
The draft horse now just knew
Of what the old man wanted
And what he expected him to do

Straight to the pub to see old friends
And to share a pot or two
Just one last time with all his mates
Before his life was thru


Don Stratford © 4/10/2005