THE PONY

Numerous lights blind the skies
in wondrous symphony
Thousands of men burn their hearts
in sweet insanity

Alone in a corner ready to go
the old and the dry Pony
So many he saw, so many blow
sadness and the melee

Crackers are burst and the champagne
for the passing of the Pony
They look upon high, a new one
inebriated, joyful, supposedly

Seconds pass and the Pony
and only a pathetic eulogy.