Tonto

No friend of the Lone Ranger,

He may be as proud, but not so statuesque,

His forehead a mass of soft brown curls,

Tonto the Dexter bull is in the house yard.

No amount of coralling can get him back in his own paddock.

He snorts and paws the ground.

Despite his diminutive stature,

He is a block of muscle,

And not to be messed with.

I cannot speculate what is going on in his deep skull,

As he attacks a pile of gravel.

So we leave him to it,

Put Lucerne in an obvious place in his paddock,

And leave the gate open.

After a short excursion around the garden,

He leaves his calling card next to the Hill's Hoist,

(Yes ours is that old),

He casually saunters back into his paddock, 

To slowly munch on hay.