I was a harness horse, <br /> Constrained to travel weak or strong, <br /> With orders from oppressing force, <br /> Push along, push along. <br /> I had no space of rest, <br /> And took at forks the roughest prong, <br /> Still by the cruel driver pressed, <br /> Push along, push along. <br /> Vain strove the idle bird, <br /> To charm me with her artless song, <br /> But pleasure lingered from the word, <br /> Push along, push along. <br /> <br /> The order of the day <br /> Was push, the peal of every tongue, <br /> The only word was all the way, <br /> Push along, push along. <br /> <br /> Thus to my journey's end, <br /> Had I to travel right or wrong, <br /> 'Till death my sweet and favored friend, <br /> Bade me from life to push along.<br /><br />George Moses Horton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/death-of-an-old-carriage-horse/
