Some horses run for glory, full of heart,
with streaming tails.
Some horses win, some horses lose,
some horses miss the mark—
Some run until they find their place—
the track is just a start.
Some horses are not born to race,
not born to fight and win.
Some horses run to better lives—
to other jobs, new friends.
How dear you were to Nana, once,
and dear to all you knew,
But they new not how you would run—
or rather, how you'd lose.
A lucky thing, those races lost—
a lucky thing indeed,
For you weren't destined for the track.
A new life called, dear steed . . .
A life of lessons, friends and blessings,
jumping, and dressage,
A life from A to C and K to F
in rising trot.
New friends—you'd meet them, and
they'd love your courage and your soul,
You'd be adored, you'd be enjoyed,
you'd play and work and show.
We love you, Bailey, this you know,
but life is full of turns.
You wound up down in Florida,
and only just returned.
Eventing, running, playing
in the warm sunbeaten south—
You won more hearts each place you went,
but Ali’s most of all.
Tammy, Bucky, pretty Sass,
and Ali, always yours . . .
We honor you, and cherish you,
and welcome you back home.
You're here with us, dear Bailey,
and your life's been long and great—
It's but half done, and here with us
your next chapter awaits.