Perhaps you lay on sodden earth, Or the deepest straw was yours from birth. On moor you'll roam wild and free, Your shelter just an old gnarled tree. Or by halter perhaps you're led, To pastures green and with grain be fed. But the time will come when your dam must leave We hope your life with love will weave, With children's laughter along the way And a hand that says "Thanks" each day.
