The clock struck seven and breakfast smelled like heaven
In a rush we hopped on the bus
Smiling wide as we drove through the countryside
We strapped on our gear and started to cheer
As we were given a horse whose hair was a little bit coarse
We started a bit slow but then we began to go
Trotting with giggles and tromping in ripples
No one wanted the morning to end.

Sarah S. hugging her horse as we wait to cross a small pond