That, without more delay,
He ran quite away,
And over a hedge he jumped quick.
LXXIX.
Moss was a little man, and a little mare did buy,
For kicking and for sprawling none her could come nigh;
She could trot, she could amble, and could canter here and there,
But one night she strayed away—so Moss lost his mare.
Moss got up next morning to catch her fast asleep,
And round about the frosty fields so nimbly he did creep.