'LissaT', who is one of my most regular readers and commentators, has requested the following poem, which is a favourite of her niece.
I am happy to oblige.
It's awfully bad luck on Diana,
Her ponies have swallowed their bits;
She fished down their throats with a spanner
And frightened them all into fits.
So now she's attempting to borrow.
Do lend her some bits, Mummy, do;
I'll lend her my own for tomorrow,
But today I'll be wanting them too.
Just look at Prunella on Guzzle,
The wizardest pony on earth;
Why doesn't she slacken his muzzle
And tighten the breech in his girth?
I say, Mummy, there's Mrs. Geyser
And doesn't she look pretty sick?
I bet it's because Mona Lisa
Was hit on the hock with a brick.
Miss Blewitt says Monica threw it,
But Monica says it was Joan,
And Joan's very thick with Miss Blewitt,
So Monica's sulking alone.
And Margaret failed in her paces,
Her withers got tied in a noose,
So her coronet's caught in the traces
And now all her fetlocks are loose.
Oh, it's me now I'm terribly nervous
I wonder if Smudges will shy
She's practically certain to swerve as
Her Pelham is over one eye.
Oh wasn't it naughty of Smudges?
Oh, Mummy, I'm sick with disgust.
She threw me in front of the Judges,
And my silly old collarbone's bust.