To the Gentle Giants

Ain't nobody don't like horses
Near as I can tell
Quarters, Morgans or Arabs
Most folks find them swell

Now you might be partial to color
Palomino, sorrel or roan
'Course ain't nothin' cuter than
A colt not yet fully grown

Settin' all that aside a minute
There's a type that none surpasses
For grandeur and for grace
These Gentle Giants of the classes

I'm talkin' bout the draft horse
Havin’ strength beyond compare
They are the equine titans
Heads high up in the air

Clydesdale, Belgian Percheron
Well known among these bands
And the biggest is the Shire
Which can be eighteen hands

We've seen beer wagon beauties
They come to town some years
But if you wanna see them all
Here's a tip fer just your ears

There's a special draft horse expo
Been goin’ on for decades
It's in Deer Lodge, ever’ June
Where, in the arena they parades

Drivers bring their shining tack,
Their painted wagons ‘n carts
From near and far they come
Showin’ off these huge steed hearts

Early sunrise strollin’ through
The barn each morn you’ll find
Cowboys and girls tendin’ harness
Groomin’ an’ lovin' on critters kind

Then see the team get hitched
A study in skilled labor to watch
Wheelers and leaders fondly paired
Their origins mostly Scotch

The teamster is an artist
Driving four, six'n hand or more
Standing in a freighter, sittin’ in a cart
By these beauties we set store

Just watchin’ em is poetry
Pulling fire wagons and dogs
Makin dust and moving on
Or ground-drivin’, pullin' logs

Cain’t ride em much
Workin’ cattle is not their trade
But fer awe of size and grace
Surely they’ve been made

By, Rik Goodell

photo by Audrey Goodell