My grandmother used to sing: Pony boy, pony boy, won't you be my pony boy? Don't say no, here we go, [hold on to the reins?] Marry me, carry me, off across the plains. Giddy-up, giddy-up, giddy-up, whoa! My pony boy. Imagine this in the USA of 1910 or so -- pretty racy stuff. Still is, I think. James.