I swear the clock struck 13
Horses frolicking happily in the paddock.
Drove up past Bolton's bench
In the forest old, but renowned as new.
On the crest of the hill a herd of wild ones stood.
Grazing in freedomas they stood in the open air.
Grey and grubby they were.
Maybe they needed a shower.
They got one anyway.
The sky exploded.
All hail the ponies.
Standing still as the raindrops fell.
The forest village swam by with people of all persuasions, in boy scout gear and boys brigade with bugles and banners,
Marching past, saluting the soldiers as they passed.
Young and old amassed.
All in the name of the crown.
(C) Livvi