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.