A cavallo donato no si guarda in bocca.

it is the thought that counts despite the pure and unredeemable
ugliness, the tastlessness, the senselessness, and the cheapness
of those gifts that were bought because one simply does
have to fulfil the silly ritual of giving shite to be sure and not
to unpardonable, unreasonable, irrational, and in all
then you must in thankfulness, gratefulness, shake hands or kiss
and this is what it is all about, the human living in exchange
of the four-footed friended gifts - would mine please be a palomino
in gold and roan, with the glint of the wild in its eyes, to be bred
from sunshine and history, not to have Ken on its back, a Barbie
stud and stallion, to be real, not that plastic moulded thing
that needs the operation of my hands to get it bloody going
like the unintentional pun that makes it to becoming innuendo
getting cheap laughs and titters, riding humour not back back
but in the saddle, freeing itself from the juxtaposition of Ken
and that stallion, so don't look in the mouth of a gifted doll
for one may see the horse that beast of play which it should be.