Muddifax by sepdet
He’s wild and furry and all full of fleas,
And never been curried below his knock-knees!
His mane’s full of thistles, his hooves full of mud,
He’s the pony of Rohan with Shadowfax blood!
Now, what his right color is I’ll never know–
It might’ve been white several decades ago.
Now it’s brown and it’s grey and it’s gold and it’s green
From rolling too much. Oh, the places he’s been!
I needed a horse for the Meduseld fair
And spotted a donkey all shaggy with hair.
But as I got closer and looked in his eye,
He said, “What’s you problem?” and I about died!
He’s wild and furry and all full of fleas,
And never been curried below his knock-knees!
His mane’s full of thistles, his hooves full of mud,
He’s the pony of Rohan with Shadowfax blood!
Now mearas they say could once talk long ago.
They’re princes of horses, so they’re good to know.
But this one’s no prince; he’s a joker, he said,
Then he kicked up his heels and clipped me on the head!
Now when I came to, I was sprawled on his back.
Meduseld was gone, we were riding some track
In the middle of Fangorn, with leaves in my face,
And huorns tapdancing all over the place!
He’s wild and furry and all full of fleas,
And never been curried below his knock-knees!
His mane’s full of thistles, his hooves full of mud,
He’s the pony of Rohan with Shadowfax blood!
“Whoah! Whoah!” I commanded. “This isn’t the place
For Rohan’s fine horses to gallop and race.”
“That’s good: I’m not fine, so it’s just fine with me!”
And he kicked up his heels and tossed me in a tree!
Once again, I awakened, both groggy and mad.
This was the worst hangover I’d ever had.
And I was hung over his withers once more
Oh no! We were trotting right into Mordor!
He’s wild and furry and all full of fleas,
And never been curried below his knock-knees!
His mane’s full of thistles, his hooves full of mud,
He’s the pony of Rohan with Shadowfax blood!
The gates were wide open; the Minions came round
To offer warm welcome. With chains I was bound
Hanging over a cauldron; they ripped off my shirt
And said they were having fondue for dessert!
“No you don’t!” cried the pony, “That won’t do, you know
He’s my prisoner to abuse or to throw.”
He kicked all the minions into that big vat
And roasted them nicely, then trampled them flat!
He’s wild and furry and all full of fleas,
And never been curried below his knock-knees!
His mane’s full of thistles, his hooves full of mud,
He’s the pony of Rohan with Shadowfax blood!
Muddifax pulled me down and he bit through the chains
Threw me over his back, and we went home again.
And that’s why, Lord Éomer, I’m a blacksmith,
Wielding hammer and tongs I can fend him off with!
Shadowfax didn’t talk like the mearas of old
Though otherwise he is a legend, I’m told.
I’m betting there’s reasons he kept a tight lip,
Wandered off with a wizard, and jumped on a ship!
He’s wild and furry and all full of fleas,
And never been curried below his knock-knees!
His mane’s full of thistles, his hooves full of mud,
He’s the pony of Rohan with Shadowfax blood!
