Poor Old Dead Horses

Don’t give your rocking-horse

To the old rag and bony

He’ll go straight to the knacker

And haggle for money

The stirrups are torn off

The bridle and harness

Chopped up for firewood

It is thrown on the furnace

And the water that boils

Is chucked down the sluices

To wash away what remains

Of poor old dead horses.