The Magic Name
In the land of heroes Norse Runs a wild and fiery horse furry coat and flowing mane Rolling eye, she’s not quite tame though trained to ride - she’s 6 years old “Want to buy?” “O.K.” “Then sold!” Perfect tölt, without a bounce, A horse whose name you can’t pronounce. Arriving at her foreign home She seems so small, stays quite alone, And though her tölt is quite forgot Neither does she want to trot. When once she was so proud and wild her spark is lost, she’s meek and mild she doesn’t really seem the same This horse with unpronounceable name In Iceland’s cold enchanted isle Where horses always wear a smile And gallop, trot or tölt all day It’s ‘cos the folk know how to say The horses’ names. And that is why The horse in Iceland seems to fly. So don’t forget it’s worth the pain To learn that all important name. For you will find, though it’s a struggle That it is worth it, take the trouble Of saying clearly THOKK-A-DIS Instead of mumbling Poxy Tees. Then Iceland’s charm will fill her soul And Þokkadís will dance and tölt her tolt and trot will lead to fame Because you learnt to say her name.Taken by darbo with a Kiev 60 loaded with Fuji Acros 100 film in Sweden. This photo can also be found in the album The Magic Name.
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