The dame replied, Some time ago,
The time when first began my woe,
I had an ass in my possession,
For selling brooms is my profession;
He bore my besoms, drew my cart,
And was the darling of my heart:
Each night, I turn’d him to the wood
To browse the bushes for his food.
One night, when all was calm and still,
Some wicked foxes from the hill,