by Edric G. Roberts
He’s not very young and he’s not very sound,
He’s not very fast, now, they say,
But nobody knows every inch of the ground
Like Seabird, the dealer’s old grey.
He’s hunted more years than I care to recall,
He’s carried us all in his day,
But no one has ever experienced a fall
On Seabird, the dealer’s old grey.