Joyfully she took the prize
In with her to that rude cot.
Pleasure filled her sparkling eyes,
For the lamb had ceased its cries
Ere it reached so safe a spot.
Like a foster mother she
Nursed it then with gentle care,
Till it grew in time to be
Large as any sheep you see,
Fed upon such scanty fare.
And its wool in one short year
For some better pasture pays
And assists the heart to cheer
Of that widow, who had fear
The coming Winter days.
Came there soon some troubles great
On this poor, small family.
He who owned the large estate
Where they lived, had sunk of late
Into greatest poverty.
Lost he all his wide domain,
Dragged to jail because of debt.
He would not of fate complain,
If that widow might remain,
But consent he could not get.
He who took their kind friend's place
Acted a most cruel part.
All might see upon his face
There was not a single trace
Of a kind or gentle heart.
And the widow was forbid
To remain another week.
Sternly he her pleadings chid,
"All such tenants he would rid,
And fresh quarters make them seek."
Threatened if they would not go
He then all would take away.
This was such a heavy blow
Sickness laid the mother low;
The were thus obliged to stay.
Ere the time had quite expired
Down the angry landlord came
With a man whom he had hired;
Liquor strong their courage fired
Till they felt no sense of shame.
Seize they Jenny's pretty pet,
Cut its throat and leave it there;
Then the household goods they get—
Heed not how the dear ones fret
When their cot was made so bare.