The Horse

When he was just five I was about to be born

and mum asked what he’d be liking.

A horse was his answer, and mum in surprise said

a brother or sister is what we are buying.

I have a sister, his answer was prompt.

I want either a brother or horse.

Mum wasn’t concerned; she knew he’d be fine.

It was only a matter of course.

The labour was short and I was quite cute

‘tho my brother was sad as could be.

He sat on a seat in the hospital grounds

and mourned the arrival of me.

The gardener was kind, he sat by the boy

and asked him to speak of his plight.

When told he offered to buy me saying

I’ve some pink nappies that will be just right.

He ran as fast as his small legs could go

all the way to Mum’s hospital quarters,

believing he’d solved the problem at last.

She told us his eyes were like saucers.

I’ve got rid of her, he shouted in glee,

pushing open mum’s door with some force.

The gardener will have her, he said that he would.

Now sell her and get me a horse!

He wasn’t too happy they didn’t comply.

They kept their daughter of course.

And he was left to dream of a day

of a brother or a horse.

He grew to love me and treated me well,

but would really have rather’d a brother.

So you won’t be surprised when I tell you his words

when asked again by our mother.

Three years along he saw mum’s big tum

and again said a horse or a brother.

When my sister arrived it was too much for him.

Put her back, I don’t want to have her.

Too many sisters, the poor boy wailed.

So many more things to carry.

Mum also kept this baby girl.

But they bought a horse for Gary.

So, Buy me a horse there’s too much to carry,

was filed with our family stories.

And at times - such as when we pack up the car

with our luggage for family holidays,

or drag out the cases of bottles and nappies,

or notice at gatherings there’re too many skirts -

whenever the job seems a little too heavy

Gary’s Clydesdale is in our thoughts.