Tag Archives: HORSES

OCTOBER 24 2011 : Life is short. Ride First, Muck Later.



horse The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW 1842 - 1954), Saturday 17 October 1936,

The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW : 1842 – 1954), Saturday 17 October 1936



I have a horse, a charger black so very fierce

of eye,

Who snorts and tosses back his head with

loud, whinnying cry.

My dobbin does not roam away, nor is he

ever fed,

That’s because my trusty steed is a pillow on

the bed!

A pillow horse is quite the bestest kind of

horse to own,

That is, of course, for little folks who don’t

like being thrown.

It doesn’t cost a penny piece to keep my horse

in corn,

Although I’m not allowed to take him out

upon the lawn.

My dobbin is a noble steed, with me upon his


We gallop off for many miles a-down a dream-

land track;

He has neither stall nor stable, is never,

never fed.

So that’s the bestest kind of horse, a pillow

on the bed!


AUGUST 21 2011 : To predict anything about the world a hundred years from now is simply absurd…. Let’s think back to people in 1900 . If they worried about people in 2000, what would they worry about? Probably: Where would people get enough horses? And what would they do about all the horse shit? Horse pollution was bad in 1900; think how much worse it would be a century later, with so many people riding horses. But of course, within a few years, nobody rode horses except for sport. Michael Crichton


horse Western Mail (Perth, WA 1885-1954), Thursday 30 June 1932

Western Mail (Perth, WA : 1885-1954), Thursday 30 June 1932


APRIL 3 2011 : She had the loaded handbag of someone who camps out and seldom goes home, or who imagines life must be full of emergencies. Mavis Gallant.



But those good old camping spots are gone, those green and shady places,
They’re scooping on the Joonamar where once we held the races,
Now the jackass laughs no longer in those tall old river gums,
The black jay and the currawongs from the hill no longer come

For the water is creeping over where once were fields of clover
And on the flats the waving yellow corn
Now I hear a fiendish rattle where once were grazing cattle
Oh how I loved the land where I was born.

Jack Bridle’s ‘Farewell to Talbingo’:



foto – the bellingen showground 2010 april

JANUARY 9 2011 : Trouble rides a fast horse. Italian.



Cantering, cantering over the


I rode my horse by the old


Cantering, cantering, up the


Over the fields and back


My horse and I ride home to


While the big red sun sinks

in the west,

I go inside to my soft white


And then I lay down my

sleepy head.

Original poem by Argus Eye. SANDRA YOUNG aged 8 Kew,

The Argus (Melbourne).  Friday 13 August 1954.

foto – raleigh 2010