Harry 'Breaker' Harbord Morant (9 December 1864 – 27 February 1902 / Somerset, England)
'A well-bred horse! but he won't get fat,
Though I've done the best 1 can;
He keeps as poor as a blessed rat!'
Said the sorrowful stable-man.
'I've bled and I've blistered him-and to-day
I bought him a monster ball;
But, blow the horse! let me do what 1 may,
He won't get fat at all.
'I've given him medicines galore,
And linseed oil and bran,
And yet the brute looks awfully poor,'
Said the woebegone stable-man.
One glance the intelligent stranger threw
At the ribs of the hollow weed,
Then asked, with an innocent air, 'Did you
Forget to give him a feed?'
Comments about this poem (Corn Medicine by Harry 'Breaker' Harbord Morant )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley