A young snow white horse, running loose on a hillside,
Nearly tripped on a lost little lamb.
White clouds crossed the heavens, and held up a rainbow
And the colt said "ain't the simple life grand?"
The lamb shook his woollen head and responded
"I wish I could find all my friends.
I've no-one to follow and I feel unbonded.
Is this anovie? When will it end?"
The colt raised his head and whinnied, majestic
"Why not learn to cherish the grace?
There are hillsides to gambol and streams to explore
And a big sky above filled with lace."
"To few it is offered," the happy horse added,
"To make solitary one's herd.
Where 'seldom' is heard, men have put up fences
For 'common' is what they've preferred."
The little lost lamb then looked up in wonder
For this wisdom had left him more addled,
"If freedom's the cure for a life put asunder
Then why are you wearing that saddle?"
Common, adj. Proud.