Hold Those Withers

Hold on, guy:
Don't get bucked up in the sky.
Hold those withers
While that nag that's beneath you quivers,
Strainin' 'gainst your clasped thighs.
Grab mane hair
Glue candidate slitherin' there.
Hold those withers.
You will get booted off if you dither.
You've almost made your time,
Made your time.
Ten seconds—you'll make your time.
Oops! You are bent way
Back—and the nag is gonna get free.
Hold on, you can stay;
Think of that rockin' mare as pet meat.
You let your hands stray;
That horse is gonna get free—
You'll land on your bum again.
Can't hold on,
And now your purchase is gone.
Watch those withers
Slide past you as you slowly slither
Into the mud and slime,
Into the mud and slime.