That's a wonderful song, Theleveller: I wasn't raised on a farm, and even if I had been my Uncles wouldn't have plowed with horses. My Mother's father had a dairy farm and delivered milk by a horse draw wagon. Here's a song drawn from my mother's family when she was a little girl:

Pile all the kids in the old hay wagon And point the horse to town
The stones are loaded on the wagon floor And the blankets all turned down
The night is cold and the moon is full, and the horse he knows the way
And it won't be long 'till we get to town and we all can hardly wait

CHORUS:
   And over in the corner there's a fiddler and the kids will all
   want to dance
   Though mom says "no," you know she'll go if you give her just
   half a chance
   
The women are whispering the ladies news, just watch those needles fly
And the young girls sit there looking so pretty, and they try to catch your eye
And the men all sit there swapping tales around the hardwood stove
And telling jokes that they've all told a hundred times before

When the fiddler's arm gets a little bit heavy, and the kids've all had their fun
Then dad will grab mom by the arm just to show 'em how it's done
And when he swings her 'round the room, you can hear those floorboard creak
And you swear they're having so much fun, it'll last 'em for a week

Load all the kids in the old haywagon and point the horse to home
The stones are loaded on the wagon floor and the blankets all turned down
The night is cold and the moon is full and the horse he knows the way
And it won't be long 'till we get back home and we all can hardly wait
Stones were heated in the stove and placed on the floor of the wagon to keep everyone's feet warm.

My mother loved this song, despite the fact that her father thought dancing was a sin and he would never have danced with her mother. Maybe that's why she liked the song so much.

Jerry