Now may I introduce to you
a man named Malcolm Morse,
who turned his fortunes round one day,
when he bought a baby horse
Now Malcolm Morse (who bought the horse)
had planned for it to race,
but he had to prove it'd got the hooves
to earn its Pedigree place
So he sent it to a specialist
to confirm that all was right,
but upon conclusion of the tests
our Malcolm was in for a fright...
...the horse that he bought
was not as he thought
to be a future Ascot winner
...the chances his foal
would achieve his main goal
were getting slimmer and slimmer and slimmer
This latest development made Malcolm irate,
especially the expert and what he did state:
"I regret to inform you, but your horse is a phony,
It's not quite Black Beauty, but more Shetland Pony,
In fact might I suggest you put him to rest,
he's failed the test, so it's probably for the best..."
This news shocked Malcolm like never before
and stood in the hallway, his jaw to the floor...
"Stop speaking" he shouted, "I can't take it no more..."
And promptly shoved the expert right out of his door...
...said Malcolm, as he pulled his car keys from the drawer
"As we're not welcome in-land, we'll move to the shore"
So he squeezed poor old pony into the boot of his car,
a Mini Cooper, to be precise, that'd never travelled too far...
A comfortable journey, it wasn't, I'm sure he'd agree
driving two hundred miles with a pony on his knee.
So off they went
and moved to Whitby-on-the-Sea
Where he charged people to ride
across the seaside
on his not-quite-a-horse-but-a-pony
And as the years passed
quite a sum had amassed
in the bank account of Malcolm Morse...
...and down to this day
you'll always hear him say:
"Thank goodness you were never a horse!"