My lovely horse, running through the field,
Where are you going with your fetlocks blowing in the wind?
I want to shower you with sugarlumps,
And ride you over fences,
Polish your hooves every single day,
And bring you to the horse dentist.
My lovely horse,
You're a pony no more,
Running around with a man on your back,
Like a train in the night (yeah)
Like a train in the night.
Yeah, you've left me behind on the last few.
Oh, dear, hope I'm not spoiling stuff for you... But you'll see. Oh, yes, you will...
ARE THESE MY FEET? WHERE AM I?
So much good in those... So much...
A volkswagon with a mind of it's own! If that's not scary I don't know
what
is!
*backs away slowly from the thread*
You guys are speaking a whole new language and I feel so left out!
*sits in corner and plays with toes*
Well, step in line to borrow Father Ted DVD's when I return them, and all will be made clear. In the meantime, playing with ones toes is certainly a valid form of expression as well.
I would love to step in line as that sounds the sort of thing to use for taunting american friends and making them giggle unconrtolably. But alas, I'd have to take them away to do that... Perhaps I can order my own set. Time to run off and check Amazon.