. Saddle room songs and hunting ballads. orse can do itYoull be there before the end. 22 The Empty Loose-Box. Youll try and save my babys life. Then on to is back I leaptAn clattered out o the stable yard, An the squire sat down an wept. The orse seemed to know what was he galloped away with a will, Seven long miles of ard igh roadAnd five o them right up ill. He was gettin weak near the finish, Swayin all over the road,An I cries, ** We must save the kiddys life, An e urried as if e knowed. Twenty yards from the doctors E staggered an then he fell;I picked myself up and ran on foot
. Saddle room songs and hunting ballads. orse can do itYoull be there before the end. 22 The Empty Loose-Box. Youll try and save my babys life. Then on to is back I leaptAn clattered out o the stable yard, An the squire sat down an wept. The orse seemed to know what was he galloped away with a will, Seven long miles of ard igh roadAnd five o them right up ill. He was gettin weak near the finish, Swayin all over the road,An I cries, ** We must save the kiddys life, An e urried as if e knowed. Twenty yards from the doctors E staggered an then he fell;I picked myself up and ran on foot An tugged at the doctors bell. I gave the doctor the message. Told im to urry of course,*Elped im to fettle is dog-cart An then I went back to the orse. The Empty Loose-Box. 23 E was lyin just where I left im, E adnt turned is ead—And I sat down an cried like a babby, For the grand old orse was dead. An is box as been standin emptySince e ran that last long race, Cause there isnt a orse in the world, sir,As is worthy to take is TO AN OLD SADDLE ABOUTTO BE SOLD. Thourt getting up in years old friend. As thy worn out leathers tell;And thou has born me bravely Oer many a rugged fell,On many a hunting morning, In many a gallant run,Oer many a wall and blackthorn, And now thy work is done. We are parting now for ever, In the days of * Auld Lang Syne,We oft have parted company. But thro no fault of never fault of thine, old friend, When at blackthorn, wall, or dyke,I left thy soft, brown pigskin For a ditch that I didnt like. To AN Old Saddle about to be Sold. 25 But now thourt going to be sold, old friend, And I never may see thee more,But Ill never forget the good old days, Those good old days of never forget the hunts, old friend. What times those were ! what fun !But now thourt sadly split and old And at last thy work is done.
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, booksubjectfo, booksubjecthorses
