Regardless of whate'er she felt,
It follow'd down the plain!
She own'd her sins, and down she knelt,
And said her pray'rs again.
Then on she sped; and hope grew strong,
The white park-gate in view,
Which, pushing hard, so long it swung,
That ghost and all past through.
Loud fell the gate against the post,
Her heart-strings like to crack,
For much she fear'd the grisly ghost
Would leap upon her back.
Still on, pat, pat, the goblin went,
As it had done before;
Her strength and resolution spent,
She fainted at the door.
Out came her husband, much surpris'd,
Out came her daughter dear;
Good-natur'd souls, all unadvis'd
Of what they had to fear.
The candle's gleam pierc'd through the night,
Some short space o'er the green;
And there the little trotting sprite
Distinctly might be seen.
An ass's foal had lost its dam
Within the spacious park,
And, simple as the playful lamb,
Had follow'd in the dark.
No goblin he, nor imp of sin,
No crimes he'd ever known.
They took the shaggy stranger in,
And rear'd him as their own.
His little hoofs would rattle round
Upon the cottage floor;
The matron learn'd to love the sound,
That frighten'd her before.
A favourite the ghost became,
And 'twas his fate to thrive;
And long he liv'd, and spread his fame,
And kept the joke alive.