Dad bought an old black horse today
He's down by the cookhouse shack
With tatterered mane
And brush-scarred coat of black

"Only a quid," the smithy said
Only a quid, thought dad
His pockets turned out
He found that quid

Led that old horse home
"Watcha think kids?'
Dad grinned at us
He lifted us both on it's back

That was when I was a kid
Thought my sister could ride too
That old horse we called Blackie
He never faltered or threw a shoe

Both dad and Blackie have long gone
I never lost my love of horses
Thank you dad for giving me
Blackie to learn to ride

Forever more, in my blood
Horses, gentle or not
I love them all from a distance
Wheelchair my ride now