Sunday, July 10, 2011

An ode to Steely Pete

Steely Pete was a horse, the finest of all,

If you were his rider he would not let you fall,

Long of the leg and black of the hair,

You could trot, walk or canter without feeling fear.

Around Tupiza he strode, travelling Gringos he bore,

He would work a full day and be eager for more,

He was my noble steed one fine afternoon,

And despite my fears he was eager to hoon.

A feisty horse, he led the pack,

If not at the front his ears would go back,

So fearlessly into the desert he strode,

While perched on his back I inexpertly rode.

Far from civilization we went, under a merciless sun,

On a trip with the boys, guaranteed fun,

For a two hour trek travelling by horse,

With many a sight to see on the course.

The time and the landscape slowly went by,

The hills and the sights sometimes obscured by Cacti,

We proceeded at a constant and steady rate,

Until soon we arrived at the Devil’s gate.

Onwards we surged, into the desert deep,

The serenity occasionally broken by jeep,

By the by to a canyon we went,

Where we took a break and some time was spent.

But then soon enough I was back on my steed,

And we started off home at a varying speed,

On the way we saw rally cars and we did a wee jump,

Over a culvert we went with barely a bump.

All too soon the trek came to an end,

But needless to say I gained a horse-friend,

So remember this tale when you’re feeling equine,

As Steely Pete is a horse remarkably fine.

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