A long, long time ago--
It was in Vienna,
How that dressage used to make me smile,
And it put me into a trance,
As I watched those white horses dance
In the arena, canter single file.
They were called the Lippizaners,
And they had received many honors.
After they would four-step,
They'd always take one more step.
These horses performed with great pride,
With every well-choreographed stride.
I was sad when I heard one died
For solace, I tried pie.
Oh my, my! There's a mare in this pie!
I taste cheval when I'm lingual
And some saddle I spy.
That fine old horse was once so frisky and spry,
Neighing, "This will be my fate when I die,
Yes, I will be ate when I die."
They'd ride the horse that I loved;
I'd watch from the stands, high above.
Slip that bridle on and go.
They'd never dance to rock and roll;
A Strauss waltz was often the goal.
They'd gallop fast and then would prance real slow.
And I wonder, did they sing a hymn
After they had sealed her up in tin?
Hope they removed the shoes,
If not, I might be skinnin' a tooth.
She'd been a stately equine broncin' buck,
But to be alimentation was her luck,
Some of her in this pie was snuck,
Some fare, dehooved, for Fid-
O, now I'm cringein'
Now I have fear that I'm chewin' bone.
It's not hoss fat--it feels more like stone,
Doesn't taste like au jus to me.
Expect something like this at Dairy Queen,
Where the kitchens aren't kept very clean.
But this is a 5-star eatery.
Oh, kings and others of world renown
Dine here whenever they're in town.
Man, their stomachs would turn
If they knew what I've learned.
Pre-Euro, you would pay many Marks*
To eat the poached eggs of young larks.
But this is like from Belmont Park
Slain, and on it we dine.
Halter-altered, would you pass the salter?
But maybe first I should read a Psalter
To show that I've got some class.
I'll take wine--another glass.
I am feeling like a horse's ass,
But I'm really starting to like this repast.
Now I eat horse fare with forks and spoons,
After enjoying those marching tunes,
To which the horses danced
And engendered so much romance.
When that horse cantered onto the field,
As a child, with joy how I squealed,
But now something has been revealed:
I like on horse to dine.
I started singin'
My, my! There's a mare in this pie!
I taste cheval when I'm lingual
And it tastes mighty fine.
I will bookend it with some whiskey and wine,
Saying, this is what I'll eat when I dine,
This is a bay on which I dine.
Oh, from now I will I feed my face
With gustation from a horse race.
For the starting gun, I've a yen.
So on the track be nimble and be quick,
With black oil I have made it slick,
To make those sire and dam chevals upend.
Oh, I watch them fall, a hippophage.
They'll soon be fodder for LePage.*
Got an owner to sell
One that fatally fell.
And now the flames climb high into the night;
I'll soon bite in with great delight.
With hippotrotaujus, red or white?
I may now choose a wine.
I started drinkin'. My, my! This mare pairs well with dry.
I don't want a heavy bevy
When it comes to the wine.
Chardonnay à cheval is brisk when it is fined.
I say, this tastes much juicier than kine,
This is way I choose to dine.
I met a girl who clanged horseshoes,
And she rang my bell and the post too.
She smiled, said, "There's a race today."
One horse had odds: 20 to 4,
She explained, he's running pretty sore.
She told me that those were real bad odds to play.
And in my fevered brain I dreamed--
It might fall, although I hadn't schemed.
The announcer had spoken:
The horse's leg was broken.
They dragged the carcass past the post
I said to her, "Tonight, we will toast.
Go dress for dinner; I will roast."
The vet, with I dough plied.
She said, wincing:
"My, my, there's a mare in this fry!
But this cheval needs some chervil
It's just a little dry.
You're a good boy--no Wienerschnitzel you ply.
I think that you are gonna be my guy!"