POOR CROW!
Give me something to eat,
Good people, I pray;
I have really not had
One mouthful to-day!
I am hungry and cold,
And last night I dreamed
A scarecrow had caught me—
Good land, how I screamed!
Of one little children
And six ailing wives
(No, one wife and six children),
Not one of them thrives.
So pity my case,
Dear people, I pray;
I'm honest, and really
I've come a long way.
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THE WOODEN HORSE.
A real horse is good,
But a horse made of wood
Is a much better horsey for me;
For he needn't be tied,
And he's steady beside,
And never gets lazy, you see.
When pulled, he will go;
And he stops when you "whoa!"
For he always is willing to please;
And though you may stay
By the water all day,
Not once for a drink will he tease.
Not a handful of feed,
All his life, does he need;
And he never wants brushing or combing:
And after a race
All over the place,
He never stands panting and foaming.
He doesn't heed flies,
Though they light on his eyes;
Mosquitoes and gnats he won't mind:
And he never will shy,
Though a train whizzes by,
But always is gentle and kind.
A real horse, some day,
Will be running away;
A donkey is so apt to kick;
A goat will upset you,
A doggie will fret you—
Your wooden horse hasn't a trick!
No chance of a crash,
Or a runaway smash,
Though never so playful and free.
Oh! I like when I drive
To be brought home alive—
So a fine wooden horsey for me!
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Tinker, come bring your solder,
And mend this watch for me.
Haymaker, get some fodder,
And give my cat his tea.
Cobbler, my horse is limping,
He'll have to be shod anew;
While the smith brings forge and hammer
To make my daughter a shoe.
Bestir yourselves, my lazies!
I give you all fair warning:
You must do your work 'twixt twelve at night,
And an hour before one in the morning.
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