The wild one, yes it is he

                        Who stands like a stone on the ridge.

                        How erect he stands, watching his herd

                        Search for forage to eat.

                        His mane flows like ebony ribbons

                        Along with his long, waving tail.

                        His stunning golden coat ripples in

                        The cool wind, and is dappled by the

                        Crimson sunset.

                       The stallion’s jeweled eyes flicker with burning coals,

                        Proclaiming that he shall never be caught.

                        And he calls his herd with his mighty bellow, and

                        They all disappear into the sunset,

                        As wild as can be.

                Yes, it is the wild one, a sight to behold,                                                                                                                                                                                                              

                And he shall never once be caught.