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Kunama 1959


The Sleigh Ride


The horse is ready, away we go
For a fast sleigh ride across the snow;
The bells are jingling, playing a tune,
The ride will finish much too soon.

The cold air rushes past our face.
The horse is trotting, beginning to race;
We race across the cold white snow,
And never a breath of wind does blow.

The snow is wondrous, mystic white,
As we glide along in our headlong flight.
The white snow flies up in our wake,
Then settles back, each downy flake.

The sleigh goes racing through the trees,
Which all flash past in two's and three's,
Then out of the woods like a bullet we go
Travelling fast on the cold white snow.

The horse is panting, beginning to slow,
And his feet dig deeper into the snow
Till at last we stop; then out we get
After a ride we will never forget.

P. SHELLSHEAR, 3A


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