My voice was raspy, rough and cracked.
I said, “I am a little hoarse.”
They stuck a saddle on my back
And jumped on me– – and now, of course,
They trot me and they gallop me,
They prance me up and down the town
Yellin’, “Giddy up, little hoarse.”
(Some things don’t mean the way they sound.)
Thursday, January 1, 2009
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