Pony laureate

[futureyesterdaz]

Whose woods these he thinks he knows
And though he’ll likely freeze his toes,
He will insist on stopping here
And grow snotsicles when he blows.

I think it more than passing queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
Where it’s so bloody cold this year.

I give my harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
His learning curve is awfully steep
But hey, he’s just a Harvard flake,

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
And I would love to get some sleep,
Too bad my owner’s such a creep,
Too bad my owner’s such a creep.