“The eggs fall out from tilted pail
And leave behind a yellow trail;
But Sammy,—counting, as he goes,
Upon his fingers,—never knows.
“Oh, Sammy Patch, your ’rithmetic
Won’t hatch a solitary chick.”
“I like that the best,” said Buddie, who knew what it was to tip over a pail of eggs, and felt as sorry for Sammy Patch as if he really existed.
“It’s one of my best,” said the Donkey. “I don’t call it my very best. Personally I prefer, Look before you leap. You’ve heard that old saw, I dare say.”
“No; but that doesn’t matter. I shall like it just as well,” replied Buddie.
“That doesn’t follow, but this does,” said the Donkey, and once more he sang: