Rolling hills and wispy meadow,
Gentle rain,
Sweet flower petals,
The Stallion runs free.
Dirty trails and clouds of dust,
Sounds of hoof beats,
Through the brush,
The Stallion runs free.
Crimson skies and fiery moon,
Flowing mane,
The night comes soon,
The Stallion runs free.
Under the shadow of an old oak tree,
Your beautiful eyes,
Looking at me,
THE STALLION RUNS FREE.
By O. D. D. Cummings
Gentle rain,
Sweet flower petals,
The Stallion runs free.
Dirty trails and clouds of dust,
Sounds of hoof beats,
Through the brush,
The Stallion runs free.
Crimson skies and fiery moon,
Flowing mane,
The night comes soon,
The Stallion runs free.
Under the shadow of an old oak tree,
Your beautiful eyes,
Looking at me,
THE STALLION RUNS FREE.
By O. D. D. Cummings
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