The Measure Around the Saddle (Girth)

Lyrics

[Intro]

[Verse 1]
I remember the strap, leather worn thin,
from William Cavendish's book, 1667,
he said girth it hard but don't hurt the horse.
My pony, Nellie, on that May morning in 2012,
stable air at five degrees, breath misting like ghosts.
The buckle, rusted iron from the Victoria Museum piece,
T.123-1927, cold in my fingers.

[Chorus]
Oh girth, measure around the saddle,
under the belly, tight but kind,
you held her steady on Point Nemo's paths.
But the tide came, briny sting in the hay,
and you slipped, wet and rough, through my hands.

[Verse 2]
Hay-strewn floor, lantern flickering on beams,
oats in the tin bucket, her treat after.
I pulled the cinch tightener, that small iron hook,
soaked in ale the night before, old English luck.
Nellie snorted, warm flank rising,
but the storm, unnamed, took her away.

[Bridge]

Cavendish, Duke of Newcastle, 1592 to 1676,
your words in the British Library, faded ink,
they echo in this empty stall now.
The strap hangs, cracked edges, waiting.

[Outro]

Girth, you were the belt of our rides,
but the sea measures wider than any saddle.