Oh for the remembered clop, clop-clop
of the hard shoes fresh from the shop,
the parade of youth learning to be old that we thought would never stop.
Alas I grew bored and thinking life was long
I went away by myself for a while whistling a careless tune.
By the time I thought to return everyone had gone.
Oh how I miss the clop-clop, clop
that the young people made as they walked!
Bag of Anything 