Christmas Trail Ride - a Rhymed Activity on the Nativity

When Mary went to Bethlehem,
She rode atop an ass, but then,
The trail was arduous and coarse;
Perhaps she traveled on a horse.

Twas many miles from Nazareth,
A donkey'd have to catch his breath.
The Virgin, nine months pregnant, glowed.
A burro couldn't bear the load.

Perhaps it was a Quarterhorse,
She's have a sturdy frame, of course.
A Clydesdale, Holsteiner or Shire
Would carry her through mud and mire.

An Andalusian or Trakehner
Barrel-racing Paint or reiner
Would be perfect for the task,
Everything that Joseph asked.

A gaited horse or Thoroughbred,
A Shetland pony, bay or red,
Could have made the rustic trek,
Without strain to back or neck.

An Appy or Arabian
Could gladly see the journey done.
But donkey? Could he make the trip?
Would he buck, refuse, or flip?

A lovely horse would lend some class,
And yet, we're told it was an ass
That carried then the unborn King,
Divine humility to bring.

For quietly, the scene was set;
The inn, it had no rooms to let.
The beasts, they served as midwives there,
As our Creator came to share.

The King of Kings, born in a stall,
Amid the shavings, muck and all,
For glory comes in meeker clothes,
Not always just as we suppose.