Ponies Shop Too, continued

These modern ponies roam the fields
Just like their great-great-aunties did.
They strike a pose in evening sun
Or in the moonlight gently hid.

Providing lots of camera fodder
To tourists on the passing trains.
Modern ponies walk the old walk
We tolerate the blooming rains….

Despite this nod to life primeval
Ponies strive to be alert
To all that today's life can offer.
To technology, they ain't inert.

I'm a pony with this mettle.
Tho' fuzzy and a little fat.
Not for me the wet grass diet
Not for me the quaint straw hat.

I had a craving for a pretzel
And a nosh on matzo brie,
You can't get those in English fields
The only snack's Ye olde cow pie.

For I am still a Wymsey pony
Though far from the old lands I roam.
And I miss the starchy goodness
Provided by my native loam.

I discussed it with the others
(Who might be brave - but maybe not.)
They said Two Legs has lots of food.
We watch them load it when it's hot.

Cause it annoys Two Legs to see us
Basking while they tote their loads.
They swear to see us roll in puddles
Our restful life is but a goad.

On we talked, as ponies will do
Discussing things of weight and woe.
But before we lost the plot forever.
I shook a hoof and shouted Whoah!

That woke them up. The lazy things.
We re-tasked and found our niches.
Where should I shop, I asked the herd
And should I go for plums or peaches?

Grapes were the final winning vote,
And with a list of wanted food.
I made my way to Two Legs Warehouse,
Tesco's, if I may be so crude.

For in the pony tongue a "Tesco"
Means a food that ain't quite right.
It's cheese that smells a little rancid,
It's beans that wake you up at night.

But what the herd forgot to tell me
Was that Two Legs have a way
Of screaming when they see a pony
Instead of saying Hello - neeeeigh!

All that noise was very scary.
(I dropped a load in Aisle Three)
I couldn't find the hummus section.
But grapes I got , and lo-fat Ghee

I got some nice meat from the deli
Not kosher but that's OK by me.
Asparagus fresh and cheese quite smelly.
(Older ponies - it helps them pee).

By now the crowd was getting restless.
Two Legs do not like my kind.
Rammed by trollies and getting testy
The Muzak made me lose my mind.

I trotted then found a rightful gallop
Slid a bit on Aisle Two.
Dodged a pile of Spanish berries
Grabbed a pint (they help me poo).

The checkout opened to my hoofbeats
I left the shop as Elton John
Began to sing "This is your song"
By the second verse I was long gone.

Ponies mostly don't want for much.
They're happy just to spot the moors.
But when the crave for bagels hits me,
Again I'll haunt the Tesco doors.

Norma Piles, Wymsey, 2006.

Norma was inspired by this.

A Note For fellow Poets of Wymsey:
Norma Piles announced this week that she was forming the New Wymsey Poets and that there would be none of the nastiness that accompanied the downfall of the old Wymsey Poets. Admission is open to all rhymsters prepared to submit a piece of work to Mrs Piles for peer review. Send your poem to the Chronicle.

top      Chronicle Archive      Wymsey Weekend      Wymsey      Letters      Contact