Why do I like horses? I think I must be mad.

My mother wasn't horsey - And neither was my dad.

But the madness hit me early - and it hit me like a curse.

And I've never gotten better. In fact I've gotten worse.

My stables are immaculate. My house is like a hovel.

Last year for my birthday - I got a brand new shovel.

I hardly read a paper - but I know who's sold their horse.

And I wouldn't watch the news - Unless Mr. Ed was on - of course.

One eye's always on the heavens -but my washing waves in vain

As I rush to get the horses in - in case it's gonna rain.

And though they're wearing 15 rugs, The best that you can get,

I bring them in to keep them dry - while I get soaking wet.

I spend up every cent I've got - on horsey stuff for sure

I buy saddles, bridles, fancy rugs - and then I buy some more.

I should have had my hair cut - or bought that nice blue shirt

At least it wouldn't now look ripped to shreds and in the dirt

I can't make a bloody sponge cake -I don't even try

But I can back a car and trailer - in the twinkling of an eye.

It's jeans and Ariat boots that I live in night and day

And that smell of sweaty horses just doesn't wash away.

Once every now and then I dress up for a ball

Make up and a hairdo - with high heel shoes and all.

I ache from long forgotten falls. My knees have got no skin.

My toes have gone a funny shape - from being squashed again.

But late at night, when all is still - and I've gone to give them hay,

I touch their velvet softness and my worries float away.

They give a gentle nicker and they nuzzle through my hair

And I know it's where my heart is - more here than anywhere

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