An equine of the purest black
Of the smokiest shape
Doth tread lightly
With calm words
Filled with the strength
And the weight of morality
His path dictated by the men
Who stand fore and aft
Clearing the way
Pushing him on
That he might stand on high
Nigh impossible to tear down
For a symbol exists long past its time
And though his steps of smoke are made
They echo throughout the decades