Our Poem

When small, you ask Mummy, "What is the Gold?"
From round little ponies getting quite old,
On ponies like Copper with kind gentle eye,
You 'll have your first lessons, think all jumps are high.

At eight and nine riding's such fun,
With Gymkhanas, Showing, days in the sun,
Picadors and Silvers give you their hearts,
The ones that bring tears on the day you must part.

At eleven your eyes shine with your dream,
As you watch your heroes ride in the team,
You 're ready for ponies with elegant airs,
Perhaps mounted on ones like brown woolly bears.

In early teens there's Dressage to learn,
A chance of a place in the team to earn,
Showjumping, Eventing, how hard you try,
Some final success, others just sigh.

Verse by Mary Lascelles

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