Rufus, Rufus running wild. br Herds and birds all scatter' round. br When his mane and boarding fleas br And feet barely touch the ground br br Whirlwinds running through his eyes, br Only visions does he see br Were his step a little quicker br Then a rabit he would be. br br Rackety, rackety go his hooves br Beating with them, days gone by: br Riffle; Rocket… Rufus now br Together breathing a heavy sigh br br Arching backs were made for saddles; br Or maybe saddles made them bend. br Our spirits free to run and fly, br Riding Rufus has no end. br br On arrival at the kraal br Mother sweeps while father strokes br His grey beard as he recalls, br Days when horses knew their folks. br br “My son, ” he says, “welcome home” br Testimonies spoke’ by sweat. br Herds of cattle in the kraal; br Rufus’ footsteps won’t forget.