I am the back end of a pantomime horse,
and I say this without much embarrassed remorse,
because I could never have claimed too much class
to have let people see I’m a true horse’s ass.
No reason to laugh, though, or mock me in jest,
since I’m in such fine company with all the rest
of the others (this, straight from the true horse’s mouth),
for we know every north end requires its south.
No cause for weeping, dear friends of my heart,
for prancing behind is its own kind of art,
and no matter how foolish the fine equine farce,
better far than play dead to just play the arse.