Evolutionary Fame

These merry children, I'll be bound
In careless pleasure ride around;
Unthinking as they onward go,
What pedigree their horses show.

But, Graybeard, you learned when a boy
About the Wooden Horse of Troy;
And you assume these steeds to be
The Trojan Sire's posterity.

Well, there you're wrong! you have forgot.
They're Flying Horses, are they not?
And, scions of a noble name,
From Pegasus descent they claim.

But, Graybeards, curb your mad desires
To mount upon these whizzing flyers.
For there's the very strongest chance
You'd go home in an ambulance.