Hoofbeats In Heaven
In Praise Of The Horse

Tribute To The Human/Equine Bond

A Tribute To Pone
Written By Dr. A. B. Harding

I feel there is a duty, that I never yet have done
I'm going to write a tribute, to a dear friend that is gone;
And I hope you will excuse me, and I know you will of course,
When I tell you, that this friend of mine was nothing but a horse.
She was not bred in Kentucky, I'll give you first to know
But up in Allegany, where the big leeks grow.

Her foot was small and pretty, she had a roguish eye;
Her tail was long and heavy, her head she carried high;
Her mane was thick and wavy, her limbs were straight and small;
Her glossy neck was proudly arched, and beautiful withall.
She had one other virtue, she knew just how to go
She was bred in Allegany, where the big leeks grow.

I shall never hold another, so closely in my heart;
For she seemed to know her duty, and always did her part;
And tho' she often spilled me, beside the thoroughfare,
I never laid up anything, against my little mare.
It seemed to me, she knew more than other horses know;
She was bred in Allegany, where the big leeks grow.

Oft have I had her leave me, without her proper load;
And scatter all my precious pills, along the lonely road;
Break my buggy into bits, cutter into kindling wood,
And raise the very devil, in the worst way that she could.
Yet, she was worth more to me, than any horse I know.
She was bred in Allegany, where the big leeks grow.

You may talk about your autos and your gasoline machines;
Your motorcycles, runabouts, coupes and limousines;
Your electric running motors, and your racers, if you please;
But I would bet and match her 'gainst any one of these,
For just jump in behind her, and give the word to go;
She was bred in Allegany, where the big leeks grow.

Alas! She has departed to her long eternal sleep;
And now, when I must drive a horse, it fairly makes weep,
To think how slow I'm going, along the thoroughfare
It never was in this way, when I drove the little mare.
And if I should go to Heaven, and that pony hasn't gone;
There'l be a great big rumpus around the golden throne;
They'l find that I don't like it, and I'll tell the angels so;
We were bred in Allegany, where the big leeks grow.

Contributed by Ginger Laplante,

"I have always loved this poem as Pone reminds me of a wonderful mare we had for 35 years who always had an "idea" but could do everything from drive to barrel racing and always had a good time doing it. If our Mischief is not in heaven I don't want to go there either!

We found this poem as a clipping among the family papers inherited by my cousin.  It was originally published in an unknown newspaper, probably early in the 20th century in Castle, N.Y. Castle is in western, upstate New York. Allegany is in the next county north."

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