"One of the
You know how every once in a while,
A good one comes along that fits your style.
I had one like that for a while.
His name was Jack’s Little Buddy, I just called him Shank,
He was so quiet and willing, he never was rank.
Shank was only three years old,
But that colt fit the mould.
The sad thing is Shank never got to grow old,
He colicked one day and twisted a gut,
Oh, I knew he was finished but I never gave up.
I walked him and walked him till the strength was
gone from every limb.
He tried one last time, but he could not stand,
So that’s where old Pappy and I buried him
right there in the sand.
I've got some good young colts at home,
But for now in the field is where they will roam.
I will keep looking and trying to find that one of a kind,
A big, strong three year old, that will fit Shank’s mould.