On thin golden poles
gliding up, sliding down,
a kingdom of horses
goes spinning around.
Jumper, Brown Beauty,
Dark Thunder, Sir Snow,
a medley of ponies
parade in a row.
Settled in saddles,
their riders hold on
to reins of soft leather
while circling along
on chestnut or charcoal,
on sleek Arctic white,
on silver they gallop
in place day and night.
Such spinning is magic,
(to dream as you sail)
with lavender saddle
and ebony tail,
whirling to music
in moonlight, spellbound,
galloping, galloping,
merrily go round.
