And so he gets up while it’s dark,
And eats a little hay.
Before I am awake at all,
He’s ready for the day.
He never says he’d like to rest,
And I never saw him frown;
It’s “Dobbin here” and “Dobbin there”—
He trudges up and down.
A little boy, when summer comes,
May run, and shout, and play,