Of course you’ve remorse—you porked a horse,
and no one should cock-woo a horse, of course!
Not running on a course, the horse—
you were shameless in the shed!

Your conduct was coarse; you banged the horse,
which whinnied continuously till hoarse.
Self-control you did not enforce.
Rocking is the shed.

Hooves went clickety-clack; you peaked, engaged in hipp-olé!
(That homophone was pretty weak,
not among my better wordplay.)
Tryst in the shed gave your sheep pique;
“You are a baaaaaaaaaaaad boy!” they all say.

So show your remorse—get off that horse!
Go back to the flock browsing in the gorse.
We’ve never heard of cocking a horse—
though trysts can be bliss—
at least, in the shed!
(Use barn in it’s stead)