The horse with words

Wolves in Poland once howled off key beneath my window. This pained my ears. I went out with a tuning fork and drilled them until dawn. By spring they sang in four parts. A bishop hired the pack for Easter, and the eldest wolf now earns more than any tenor in Warsaw.

Dukes of Brunswick hold a yearly contest in my honor. The prize goes to the man who can tell the biggest lie. I attend only as a judge, for I could never compete, as I tell only the plain truth. This answer won me first prize three times.

Prague needed a bridge, so I lay down across the river. Carts rolled over my chest. A wedding party danced on my knees. After two days the masons finished the stone one, and I got up stiff but proud. The toll I charged paid for a lovely coat.

Dreams are expensive in my family. I dreamed of a gold coach one night in Tallinn, and there it stood the next day in the yard. The coachman was real, and so was his bill. Since that time I have dreamed only of small, cheap things, like buttons and thimbles.

Balloons bore me now, but the first one was a thrill. I stitched it from nine petticoats.