Warts
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Dana Murphy, Grade 8
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Poetry
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2009
Ugly was the foal, said the boy at dawn,
He reached out for a pat, it was damp but warm
White as snow, struggled to stand,
It had a long time to live, in this great land
“Let’s take him inside,” we both agreed,
We put him near the oven, he would get warm indeed
We went out the back, to see its mother,
We saw her eating, she looked with a bother
Grandma got a bucket, while I got a stool,
Grandma sat down, it was quiet and cool
“How are you going to milk her?” I asked looking down,
“Too milk a horse…..You must know to milk a cow
Grandma milked her, well indeed,
It was time for the foal, to have a good feed
Starting to stand, legs gaining strength,
Start walking around, also gaining length