VIII. PONY ROLLO AND LITTLE DOG MIDGET
Midget, little Midget,
Was the household pet,
And his pretty cunning ways
Ne'er can we forget.
Trotting legs the nimblest,
Liveliest of tails,
Such a bark for yelps of joy,
Or for saddest wails!
Fluffy little Midget,
When he quiet lay
Seemed a bunch of shaded floss,
Silky, soft, and gray.
But a whispered "Midget,"
Or the merest sound,
And the mop of silken hair
Life and voice soon found.
Midget, little Midget,
Was so bright and quick
That he learned without delay
Many a cunning trick.
Standing up and begging,
Fetching back a ball;
Playing dead, but roused to life
At his master's call.
Holding tempting morsels
On his pert black nose;
From the farmer's field of corn
Driving off the crows.
Bringing Father's slippers,
Jumping high in air,
Mother's basket carrying
With a pompous air.
These and all his other
Tricks of doggish skill,
Midget would at any time
Do with eager will.