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By Ann Applegarth (C*)
I stopped by the horse show to check out a mare.
It was hot as blazes – hardly anyone there.
The horses were dragging, and the judge finally said
that riders could show in shirtsleeves and bare head.
The guy who owned the little blue roan
said he wanted three thousand for the mare alone,
but he’d make me a deal and throw in the tack
for thirty-five hundred (the guy’s name was Mack).
I tried out the mare, and I liked her a lot.
She had a smooth lope and a rocking-chair trot.
I jogged her around just to see how she’d ride.
She was honest and willing with a stranger astride.
Then we sprayed with water (I sprayed myself too).
When her hide got wet, she looked really blue.
I decided to try her for a three-week test.
Mack said, “Lady, you’re gettin’ the absolute best.”
I told Mack I’d pay part right then and there
and the rest if I wanted to keep the roan mare.
We shook hands on the deal, and I loaded her in
for the long ride back to the barn – and then
I swigged the cold Pepsi I’d bought at the show,
turned the a.c. up high, hollered, “Mare, here we go.”
Well, I’ve had that blue mare now a goodly long time.
She’s fast and she’s smart and she’ll turn on a dime.
I reckon she sure was worth all that money
‘cause as horses go, my blue roan’s a real honey.
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(C*) Copyright belongs to Ann Applegarth
