The Kings Guards horses

In London guards on horses
Seemingly we see
Tourists in their bloody droves
Petting constantly
Persistently with tenacity
The poor souls have to take
Patting scratching kissing
And steadfastly they make
All this sloppy jollity
Unflaggingly in fact
Expected just to stand there
And not to re act.

It really takes endurance
Men and women are
Completely insensitive
These horses are the star
They don’t have good intentions
The animal has rights
But these tourists are so selfish
And one or two get bites

And then of course they grumble
Miserable as hell
What about the bloody horse
Going through a spell
Of genuine annoyance
its mouth it’s nose it’s ears
All that stinking perfume
It’s driving it to tears

The guards are under pressure too
If they had a choice
Who wants to sit and see one’s horse
Impulsively giving a voice
Clearly rattled by it all
Suffering a lot
And still they expect
A good picture and don’t move
Until they have got
It

Tourists go home will you