Old Jack was as sleek
And well looking an ass
As ever on common
Munched thistle or grass;
And--though 'twas not gaudy,
That jacket of brown--
Was the pet of the young
And the pride of the town.
And indeed he might well
Look so comely and trim,
When his young master, Joe,
Was so gentle to him;
For never did child
More affection beget
Than was felt by young Joe
For his four-footed pet.
Joe groomed him and fed him,
And, each market day,
Would talk to his darling
The whole of the way;
And Jack before dawn
Would be pushing the door,
As though he would say,
"Up Joe; slumber no more."
One day Jack was wandering
Along the roadside,
When an urchin the donkey
Maliciously eyed;
And aiming too surely
At Jack a sharp stone,
It struck the poor beast
Just below the shin bone.
Joe soothed and caressed him
And coaxed him until
They came to a stream
By the side of the hill;
And with cool water
He washed the swoll'n limb,
And after this fashion
Kept talking to him:--
"Poor Jack did they pelt him--
The cowards, so sly!
I wish I'd been there,
With my stick, standing by:
It doesn't bleed now--
'Twill be well in a trice;
There, let me just wash it--
Now isn't that nice?"
And Jack nestled down
With his soft velvet nose,
And close as he could,
Under Joe's ragged clothes;
And he looked at his master,
As though he would say--
"I'm sure I can never
Your kindness repay."