  These merry children, I'll be bound In careless pleasure ride around; Unthinking as they onward go, What pedigree their horses show. But, Graybeard, you learned when a boy About the Wooden Horse of Troy; And you assume these steeds to be The Trojan Sire's posterity. Well, there you're wrong! you have forgot. They're Flying Horses, are they not? And, scions of a noble name, From Pegasus descent they claim. But, Graybeards, curb your mad desires To mount upon these whizzing flyers. For there's the very strongest chance You'd go home in an ambulance. |
|
