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Authors: Spike Milligan
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legs
sticking under his chin.
Robert came and looked at
my foot again, and must have felt sorry for me because they gave me tea and a
sandwich. At last I reached my own box, and Reuben was put in his box, which
unlike mine, was going underground.
When at last my knees were
healed, they put a blistering fluid over both of them; alas, I will always have
bald knees.
27
RUINED AND GOING DOWNHILL
As soon as my knees get better
I am going to write my mother a state-of-knees letter
I was put in a meadow, all alone
I longed for company, even an old ageing crone
I was able to eat great amounts of grass
All it did was go straight thru me and out my arse
One day, my friend Ginger came on the scene
He was nothing like the horse he had been
He was so very thin
Actually, you could see right in
Lord George had ridden him into the ground
So deep, he couldn’t be found
He became very, very ill
Ruined and going downhill.
As soon as my knees were
healed, I was turned into a small meadow; after a month I was turned back into
a horse again. I felt very lonely; I felt my legs, and they felt lonely. Ginger
and I had become fast friends; we did 45 miles per hour.
One day, in came dear old
Ginger, and with a joyful whinny, I trotted up to him. We were both glad to
meet, but I soon found that it wasn’t for our pleasure he was brought to be
with me. The story would be too long to tell, at least three months, but the
end of it was that he had been ruined by hard riding, and was now turned off,
to see what rest would do. Would he become dog food?
Soon after I left the
stable there was a steeplechase. Lord George was determined to ride, and the
groom told him he was a little strained, and not fit for the race. On the day
of the race he came in with the first three horses, but his wind was touched;
it was escaping out the back.
One day, the Earl came into
the meadow, and York was with him. Fuck them! He examined me and said, ‘I can’t
have knees like these in my stables.’
Knees
You’ve got to have knees
They’re the things that take stock when you sneeze
You’ve got to have knees
They only come in fours, but never threes
You’ve got to have knees
In the winter, fill them up with anti-freeze
You’ve got to have knees
Famous for having them are bees
You’ve got to have knees
If you want to see mine, say please
You’ve got to have knees
They help you run away from falling trees
Knees — wonderful knees!
‘No, my lord, of course
not,’ said York, the grovelling little bastard.
‘They’ll soon take you
away,’ said Ginger. ‘It’s a hard world.’
I tested the ground with my
hoof; yes, indeed, the world was very hard.
Through the recommendation
of York, the bastard, I was bought by the master of the livery stables. I found
myself in a comfortable stable, and well attended to. There were some nice
pictures on the wall and a three-piece suite.
28
A JOB-HORSE AND HIS DRIVERS
I’ve always been driven by people
Of which there are a few
They were English, Irish, Chinese and even a Jew
Some drivers have no control over their horse
I had a driver who did not know his left from his right
So he drove me in bloody circles all bloody night
Some drivers are insane, and not to blame
They can be driving, and are never seen again.
Some poor horses have been
made hard and insensible by just such drivers as these, and may, perhaps, find
some support in it; but for a horse, you can depend upon its own legs. My motto
is, ‘Never use a horse without his own legs.’ Some drivers fall asleep; some
used to fall backwards in the carriage and get carried away.
Drivers are often careless
and will attend to anything else rather than their horses, like a woman with no
knickers. My driver was laughing and joking with the lady with no knickers. He
was sitting next to her and feeling her all over, and thus we drove into a shop
window. ‘Now look what you’ve done,’ said the driver,
sticking under his chin.
Robert came and looked at
my foot again, and must have felt sorry for me because they gave me tea and a
sandwich. At last I reached my own box, and Reuben was put in his box, which
unlike mine, was going underground.
When at last my knees were
healed, they put a blistering fluid over both of them; alas, I will always have
bald knees.
27
RUINED AND GOING DOWNHILL
As soon as my knees get better
I am going to write my mother a state-of-knees letter
I was put in a meadow, all alone
I longed for company, even an old ageing crone
I was able to eat great amounts of grass
All it did was go straight thru me and out my arse
One day, my friend Ginger came on the scene
He was nothing like the horse he had been
He was so very thin
Actually, you could see right in
Lord George had ridden him into the ground
So deep, he couldn’t be found
He became very, very ill
Ruined and going downhill.
As soon as my knees were
healed, I was turned into a small meadow; after a month I was turned back into
a horse again. I felt very lonely; I felt my legs, and they felt lonely. Ginger
and I had become fast friends; we did 45 miles per hour.
One day, in came dear old
Ginger, and with a joyful whinny, I trotted up to him. We were both glad to
meet, but I soon found that it wasn’t for our pleasure he was brought to be
with me. The story would be too long to tell, at least three months, but the
end of it was that he had been ruined by hard riding, and was now turned off,
to see what rest would do. Would he become dog food?
Soon after I left the
stable there was a steeplechase. Lord George was determined to ride, and the
groom told him he was a little strained, and not fit for the race. On the day
of the race he came in with the first three horses, but his wind was touched;
it was escaping out the back.
One day, the Earl came into
the meadow, and York was with him. Fuck them! He examined me and said, ‘I can’t
have knees like these in my stables.’
Knees
You’ve got to have knees
They’re the things that take stock when you sneeze
You’ve got to have knees
They only come in fours, but never threes
You’ve got to have knees
In the winter, fill them up with anti-freeze
You’ve got to have knees
Famous for having them are bees
You’ve got to have knees
If you want to see mine, say please
You’ve got to have knees
They help you run away from falling trees
Knees — wonderful knees!
‘No, my lord, of course
not,’ said York, the grovelling little bastard.
‘They’ll soon take you
away,’ said Ginger. ‘It’s a hard world.’
I tested the ground with my
hoof; yes, indeed, the world was very hard.
Through the recommendation
of York, the bastard, I was bought by the master of the livery stables. I found
myself in a comfortable stable, and well attended to. There were some nice
pictures on the wall and a three-piece suite.
28
A JOB-HORSE AND HIS DRIVERS
I’ve always been driven by people
Of which there are a few
They were English, Irish, Chinese and even a Jew
Some drivers have no control over their horse
I had a driver who did not know his left from his right
So he drove me in bloody circles all bloody night
Some drivers are insane, and not to blame
They can be driving, and are never seen again.
Some poor horses have been
made hard and insensible by just such drivers as these, and may, perhaps, find
some support in it; but for a horse, you can depend upon its own legs. My motto
is, ‘Never use a horse without his own legs.’ Some drivers fall asleep; some
used to fall backwards in the carriage and get carried away.
Drivers are often careless
and will attend to anything else rather than their horses, like a woman with no
knickers. My driver was laughing and joking with the lady with no knickers. He
was sitting next to her and feeling her all over, and thus we drove into a shop
window. ‘Now look what you’ve done,’ said the driver,
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