Читать книгу Come Hither: A Collection of Rhymes and Poems for the Young of All Ages - Various - Страница 103

My clothing was once of the linsey woolsey fine,

My tail it grew at length, my coat did likewise shine;

But now I'm growing old; my beauty does decay,

My master frowns upon me; one day I heard him say,

Poor old horse: poor old horse.

Once I was kept in the stable snug and warm,

To keep my tender limbs from any cold or harm;

But now, in open fields, I am forced for to go,

In all sorts of weather, let it be hail, rain, freeze, or snow.

Poor old horse: poor old horse.

Once I was fed on the very best corn and hay

That ever grew in yon fields, or in yon meadows gay;

But now there's no such doing can I find at all,

I'm glad to pick the green sprouts that grow behind yon wall.

Poor old horse: poor old horse.

"You are old, you are cold, you are deaf, dull, dumb and slow,

You are not fit for anything, or in my team to draw.

You have eaten all my hay, you have spoiled all my straw,

So hang him, whip, stick him, to the huntsman let him go."

Poor old horse: poor old horse.

My hide unto the tanners then I would freely give,

My body to the hound dogs, I would rather die than live,

Likewise my poor old bones that have carried you many a mile,

Over hedges, ditches, brooks, bridges, likewise gates and stiles.

Poor old horse: poor old horse.

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