(A Song for the Sea-Side,)
The Donkey-Boys of England, how merrily they fly,
With pleasant chaff upon the tongue and cunning in the eye.
And oh! the donkeys in a mass how patiently they stand,
High on the heath of Hampstead, or down on Ramsgate’s sand.
The Donkey-Boys of England, how sternly they reprove
The brute that won’t “come over,” with an impressive shove;
And oh! the eel-like animals, how gracefully they swerve
From side to side, but won’t advance to spoil true beauty’s curve,
The Donkey-Boys of England, how manfully they fight,