THREE COMPANIONS
We go on our way together,
Baby, and dog, and I;
Three merry companions,
'Neath any sort of sky;
Blue as her pretty eyes are,
Or gray, like his dear old tail;
Be it windy, or cloudy, or stormy,
Our courage does never fail.
Sometimes the snow lies thickly,
Under the hedge-row bleak;
Then baby cries "Pretty, pretty,"
The only word she can speak.
Sometimes two rivers of water
Run down the muddy lane;
Then dog leaps backwards and forwards
Barking with might and main.
Baby's a little lady,
Dog is a gentleman brave:
If he had two legs as you have
He'd kneel to her like a slave;
As it is he loves and protects her,
As dog and gentleman can;
I'd rather be a kind doggie
I think, than a brute of a man.