Polo

Our Poem

Every stroke, every strike,
Every heart beats alike.
Every muscle aches the same,
Every player wants the game.
Seeking the ball on balanced stride,
A mouth light, a joy to ride.
Following the ball true to goal,
As thundering hooves pass each pole
To Ride Off needs a pony's skill,
A fast run a pony's will.
Chukkas end, new ponies play.
In Polo, ponies win the day.


Verse by Mary Lascelles