I sent m'lady Emrys a copy of the donkey poem below,
and she send this back ...
I stand alone at the treacherous pass
when next I beheld a noisy ass
a snort, a blow, a bellow below
a flick of ear, but I do not know
for I've listened to my share of asses
but none looking up at me from scarey passes
should I heed the plaintive beckoning bray
and trust that I will be borne away?
Neigh I say, no way, belay!