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Desert Dust stands cocky as stallions must,Palomino framed by rocks red as rust,His white tail caresses the sage below. The matching mane now at rest, laying low.A brief relief from the mares and the snaresOf mustangers in jeeps with ropes and hopesTo skin the golden horseflesh he wearsGol dang Big mustang, Red Desert despot,Tooth and fang you fought for that spot on top.But are all those mares and foals worthy goals'Til some cowboy nails iron shoes to your solesOr skins off your golden hide or just ridesAnd spurs your lank flanks and derides your pride.Don't feint, old paint; don't jump, don't twist,don't buck. Proud stallions must wait for fate to bring luck. Don't brood about winding up as dog foodA twelve hundred pound horse in a bad moodIs a force that cannot be poo-pooed.
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