The nicest rides we have are in the month of May,
When we drive out in the country, and always some new way;
Oh, the turnings and the windings,
Oh, the seekings and the findings,
As we clatter, clatter, clatter, all the way.
MY LITTLE PONY
Hop, hop, hop, nimble as a top,
Over hill and valley bounding,
With your clinking hoofs resounding: