strut their stuff
They seemingly don’t notice
Jack Frost
and all his mates
And the frozen Ponds
Like vagabonds
With some clearly in dire straits
But Ponies manage sort of well
Its those that are dumped there who
Are not use to the bleakness
of the moors and what to do
That’s when the slaughter man comes in
And murders them for, he
Needs to improve the genetic pool
Which he does, annually
Around the time of Christmas
The ponies fetched a Pound
People won’t look after them
Some dead on the ground
The slaughter man was adamant of the actual need to kill
For The Tigers up at Dartmouth Zoo
Enjoyed Pony goodwill
But it shows you really in the past
People seemed to be
More thoughtful and more caring
And prepared to go and see
How the beasts were faring
In what is a blustery Hell
But now they are left to brave it out
Themselves, and it might be well
But mostly they are suffering
Those cold dank winds that blind
Its really hard to just stand there
And take that now they find.