Pony

 The bucking bronc

Flies me around

The arena

Faster

Than he

Was let

Out of

The Shute

Brass buckled

Wrangler

Laced in mud

And manure

Now the scent

That permeates

The hair

That was so 

Coiffed and pretty

Now looks

Like a stiff wind

Shook it up

More than

Than that

Alcohol

In the 

Martini shaker

I’m well shaken

Not stirred

Mr. Bond

Not that 

I ever was 

A show pony

With pedigree

More mustang

Than thoroughbred

My breeding stock

Reads like

A serving of 

Pickled herring

And the 

Cheapest vodka

Found