The Unemployed Equine Poem by Caroline Dilworth

You fed us, we listened.
We obeyed your command.
You put us in harness,
and we changed the land.
We helped you grow food and build shelter for all.
You owed us your progress,
thus the Workhorse stood tall.

Much admired by so many our blood-lines bred pure.
We prevailed in your battles
and hardship endured.
We fought close together
and were brave and stood true
We had honour and faith.
The Warhorse held trust in you.

We owed you our progress, our blood-lines and feed.
You bred us to run faster,
thus increasing our speed.
You refined our genetics and crafted our look.
When the Thoroughbred galloped the earth pounded and shook.

Throughout history we made ourselves useful,
to repay our debt,
but we stopped being useful when in (silently) your technology crept.
Work for a horse is now so scarce and thin on the ground.
We rely on you more,
not the other way round;
so the next time you see a horse in distress,
stop and do something.
Help him out of the mess! '