We stripped her shoes and led her to the field out from the pen
She seemed bemused when I whispered “go and be a horse again”
She’d run the fence and whinnie to the riders as they passed
She seemed to sense, the lope along the hill had been our last

There’s not a near or far horizon left for us to cross
For twenty years we roamed the heather moor and Border moss
To sit astride the graceful power and beauty of the mare
Filled me with pride and drove away life’s weariness and care

She could be wilful, horsemen say they have their mareish days
She taught me skilful, calm and quiet patience with her ways
A kindly eye, dark chestnut with a Western pedigree
She seemed to try to find and bring the cowboy out in me

There’s some would say, ‘a horse is just a servant or a slave’
But to this day I’m humbled by the privilege she gave
No more I’ll climb and mount the Bighorn Saddle on her back
To feel sublime, and turn her bonnie head towards the track

As cruel time unfolds the fates that have to be revealed
The hill I climb and view with saddened eyes the empty field

If there are plains where man and horse may once again unite
I’ll take the reins and ride into the dying of the light