Don't know the poem but,

Uncle had a stallion that reached over and grabbed me by the top of my shoulder, I was about 9 or 10, the pain was 'special' my legs drew up in the fetal position and there I hung from his mouth............

PS: If you don't KNOW, horses or hores's can bite like a sumbeotch.....


"...A man's rights rest in three boxes: the ballot box, the jury box and the cartridge box..." Frederick Douglass, 1867

( . Y . )