Ouch.

Dear Charlie: I have your horse.

He woke me from my sleep.

I don’t want to get coarse

But you promised me you”d keep

This beastie from my calves.

He won’t be kept at bay

By any common salves

Indeed, he just says nay

When asked to take a hike.

He’s turned this poor old hag

He’s chosen to strike

Into a crippled nag

Who cannot stand the pain.

So Charlie, try and see

If you can’t take him home again.

Okay? Sincerely, Me.

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