The Centaur

A poem by Oliver Herford

The Centaur led a double life:
Two natures in perpetual strife
He had, that never could agree
On what the bill-of-fare should be;
For when the man-half set his heart
On taking dinner à la carte,
The horse was sure to cast his vote
Unswervingly for table d'OAT.
A pretty sort of life to lead;
The horse in time went off his feed,
The hungry man was nigh demented,
When one day--OATMEAL was invented!

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