ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

I wonder whether his original racing name meant to be Castlereigh and when he was registered the bloke was drunk and said Cashel Rhi

He is beautiful - very precious....Luck you Marty, he is a good looking fellow.

Cheers

Maureen

Looks good Marty! He was "given" to you? As in free? You lucky thing!

I haven't ridden for least six years, but my neighbour finally convinced me to get back in the saddle. Well, I worked up a sweat just getting my boots on, then I had to find the crusty looking saddle under all the cobwebs, mouse poo and mud dobber nests, then convince the bridle that it can still bend. My over-16-hand pony was just a walking clod of red clay so I almost wore my arm off brushing him, then worked up a sweat getting the girth to meet the leathers. Next problem - how does a short, wide, chubby, sweating, beetfoot-faced chick get up on a tall beastie like that? Hmmm, my delightful hubbie offered to lift me up with the forklift but I simply refuse to allow that to happen - it would be one of those things I would never hear the end of so I used a step ladder! I thought that me on a horse would squash him like a pinjata and guts would come out both ends, but he was fine. After a bit of walking (he hasn't been ridden for a couple years either, so I thought though could be a bit of fizz in him), I gave him a loose rein and he trotted and cantered, despite the tonne or so of rider on top of him. Feeling it a bit in the legs today, but it's all good. I'm back in the saddle and it feels great!!! "Back in the saddle" - sounds like a poem, hey?

So Cashy was free? He should be called Freey, no that doesn't work.

I used to have a sulky and started training the kid's pony to pull it. She was doing really well at the start, but unfortunately she had a phobia about things around her rump, so when the britchen pulled tight, she flipped out. Lucky I was leading her and not in the sulky, cos ... the shafts were bent like the corkscrews and the harness snapped into seven pieces. It didn't end happily.

So maybe spoken quick like Humphrey he could be Cashfreee Maybe the luck of the Irish is with him Marty for he surely has a good home now. fancy anybody even for a minute thinking for sending him to that other place. Soooo not nice.

Good on you Kym - bet that feels just great even taking into account the sore legs.

Cheers

Maureen

Life for a harness horse is hard on both on you and the horses
And I should know I owned trained and raced them in Maryborough


Life she’s hard she ain’t much good
Trotters born when not they should
Thirty thousand born each year
Many stallions should, be made a steer.
Though five thousand make it to the track
That’s not many when you look back
But only one thousand, carry on
Five hundred race, as hope stays on
A hundred and fifty pacers pay their way.
To live a life and race another day,
Some are bred to replace the old.
Others bred, luckily are not sold.
Some find homes as people’s pets.
Others!? Well don’t place your bets

I finished this poem abruptly end because I hated what had to be done.

Bill Williams