Catch me (if you can!)

The ground was hard and rocky
‘twas the middle of summer you see.
And on the path ahead us
there was a fallen tree.

The sun it shone upon us
as I gathered up the reins
and urged my brown horse forward
with my fingers meshed in mane.

We sped into a canter,
Five paces down the hill.
I was perching forward and ready,
enamoured by the thrill.

But jumping on the down-slope
is not the wisest thing
that little voice inside me
loud and raucous it did sing.

“Don’t do this jump you idiot!
Listen to me! It’s dumb!
You’re cantering on the downhill-
and what about your thumb!?”

But I was suddenly airborn
and over the tree I flew,
but my big brown horse went sideways-
he’d completely missed his cue.

And suddenly I comprehended
of what my voice had sung,
for wrapped around the reins was
my valuable left thumb.

Oh fuck! Was my quick thinking -
horse thataway and me ahead.
I’ve gone and lost my seating
and possibly I’m dead!

I do not know who fiddled
with clocks when time began,
but as I flew up to the heavens
in the hourglass stopped the sand.

I landed left, my horse went right,
my thumb piggied in the middle.
My pending death caused such a fright
that I nearly had to piddle.

In the middle of a forest
and miles away from home
my un-catchable brown horse
he ran at a speed unknown.

So up I stood and brushed off
dirt, dust and wounded pride.
It looked as though Shank’s pony
Would be my only ride.

I followed behind my brown horse
on the horizon he was a dot,
his tail was up, his nostrils flared…
I yelled and cursed a lot.

Ahead here comes along my saviour;
Is it Jesus? (of course it’s not!)
But rather a pair of bushwalkers
out walking when it’s hot.

I yell at them, point at my horse,
desperate they to intercept,
but their reactions were a little slow,
perhaps you’d say… inept?

I guess that my big brown horse
naked of his mother load
was perhaps a trifle scary -
but he was heading for the road!

My horse he swerved around them
while I desperately did chase;
surely hellfire and damnation
was smeared across my face.

The road was coming closer
if he reaches it – oh dear!
Not only cars and bikes and things
but semi’s, my biggest fear!

And then in desperation
came the genius that do –
“I’ll cut across the forest!”
My word, how my legs flew!

It was my final hope for
my previous tack did fail.
You try running through a forest
chasing his (and mine) own tail!

I steamed through the dark forest,
Yes! Emerged exactly in the place -
a look of shock and horror was
on my big brown horse’s face!

Triumphant and successful
I’d outsmarted that old brown horse,
for humans are superior
to animals, of course!

I gathered up the reins while
way past ten I had to count,
slowly lifted up my left leg,
foot in stirrup, I did mount.

It’s funny how the rocking
on a horse can make you cry;
and through my tears I wondered,
“Why does he hate me, why?”

Though I love my old big brown horse
I wished him to turn to glue -
but if you went through what I did
realistically, wouldn’t you?