The Pony of Chincoteague
The sweep of their manes, the flash of their silver tails,
Skimming the shore like the gulls up above.
Free as the wind that ripples the sweet marsh grass;
With wings on their feet and with souls of the sea.
On warm sandy shores 'neath the clattering of the sea birds,
The horses rejoice in the each day's jubilee.
But The Pony of Chincoteague, who once swam in the open sea,
Has forgotten the liberty that her mother so loved.
And the seasons go by, snow soon covers the ground,
And in its warm stable, the pony has found
The warmth of a blanket and plenty to eat,
But in each of her dreams, it's the sea that she meets.
She plays in the sea mist and chases the moonbeams
With the horses who frolic like nature set free.
But The Pony of Chincoteague then awakes from her slumber
Still locked in a stable to which she has no key.
And the years come and go, and her body grows old,
Yet still in those treasured dreams, the pony runs free,
With a flash of her silver tail and wings on her feet
And the wind at her back, as her mane sweeps the sea,
And the wind at her back, as her mane sweeps the sea.