No wonder the Cottager
Looks with Pride
On the well-fed donkey
That stands at his side;
For he works, and he lives
As hard as he,
And a creature more useful
There cannot be.
He knows the Cottager's
Wife and child,
And he loves to play
With that dog so wild;
And though sometimes
So staid and still,
He can roll in the meadow
With right good will.
He knows the road
To the market well,
Where garden vegetables
He goes to sell:
And though it is hilly,
And far, and rough,
He thinks--for a donkey,
It's well enough.
So he trudges along,
And little he cares
How hard he works,
Or how ill he fares!
Content when his home
Appears in sight,
If his kindly master
Smiles at night.