A Stock Horse... High Country Bred
Dark Palomino with white patches on his body and head
A solid well-muscled body and sturdy big boned legs
With strong shoulders and a massive muscled rear end
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Sure footed Frosty, would go anywhere
A gallop on the marshes through creeks and river beds
Up and down steep and rocky hills, through thick bush and scrub
Nothing would impede his progress, he never gave up
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He would carry heavy loads of Kangaroo and Deer
A friend to so many on the regular weekend hunt
Not fazed, never flinch when the guns went off
Work all day in the bush from dawn to dusk
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Working with the dogs to gather sheep from the hills and plains
His rider sitting comfortable and on a loose rein
Picking his way around the fallen timber and rocky scree
Nothing would stop him no need of spur or whip

Stock horse competitions he would excel and prove his worth
Trail riding he was hard to beat in manners and stamina
Frosty, was loved by all who had the chance to meet him
His reputation admired and known by country and city people alike
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But on a cold windy winters morning, Frosty was startled
Rising from the rough and ragged ground where he lay
His leg got caught, snapped his shoulder, struggling to get up
A sad time next morning when he was found, there was no hope
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Frosty was put down
Buried on the wind swept plains where he was born
And close to another legend of the High Country
His Mom
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Such a legend Frosty was gone before his time
But he will be remembered for his nature and strength
For on the high country his memory lives amongst so many
And round the camp fires Frosty story will be told
Penned on the 23/01/15