I got an extra kinda trot that I like to down-shift into sometimes, but not all the times, when me and my gal are coverin long distances across the desert, if it seems like we might be stuck at trottin for too long of a time, and if she says I can’t lope a little. I heard the people say it means I might be “gated,” but truth to tell, I ain’t much of one for sidepassin to open gates. Sidepassin’s kinda hard on the old stifle joints, after so many long years of workin for a livin and hard use. But when I break into my glidin motion, they call it gatin. And they say I got a really smooth rhythm to my gate, and to my trot, too.
And, well, I should, ‘cause – and this goes nowhere, you got that straight? – there’s a certain song I like to sing to myself, not out loud, of course, because that wouldn’t hardly be dignified, but I heard it ‘round a campfire once a long, long time ago, and I realized the people they was all clappin together and raisin their voices high into the night to sing my praises. But I kept that to myself, too, ‘cause there ain’t nobody on a ranch that likes a ranch horse with a fat head.
But when we’re coverin lots of ground, especially at my extra gate, I like to pass the time singin this here Palomino Song, by a real smart lady called Mary Ann Kennedy, to myself. You can likely imagine me movin in time to the music, with my golden coat glistenin in the sun… There ain’t no girl that don’t want a palomino: