Show casing one of the finest displays of Heavy horses and I thought you might like a poem and it has to be by Will H. Ogilvie. “Clydesdales”.  The Suffolk Punch will keep the road; the Percheron goes gay; the Shire will lean against his load all through the longest day; but where ploughland meets the heather and earth from sky divides, through the misty Northern weather, stepping two and two together, all fire and feather come the Clydes! The Hunter gallops on the lea, the Garron treads the ling, The Hackney, touching nose and knee, will make the roadway ring; but apart from play and pleasure, with the sweat upon their sides, where the furrow is to measure, and the earth to turn for treasure, serfs of little leisure, Go the Clydes!  To each the favourite of his heart, to each his chosen breed, in gig and saddle, plough and cart to serve his separate need! Blue blood for him who races, clean limbs for him who rides, but for me the giant graces, and the white and honest faces, the power upon the traces, of the Clydes!

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