Gee whiz! I'd give a million bones to be back home a-sleeping! My
shoes are full of burs and stones, and I am tired of weeping. Last
night I sought a stack of hay, where slumber's fetters bound me, and at
the cold, bleak break of day a husky farmer found me. I tried to
pacify his nibs when he stood there and blessed me; alas, his pitchfork
smote my ribs, his cowhide shoes caressed me. The dogs throughout this
countryside all seem to think they need me; they've gathered samples of
my hide, and many times they've treed me. And when I roamed the
woodland path to see the wild-flowers' tinting, a bull pursued me in
its wrath and broke all records sprinting. At noontide I sat down to
rest, and rose depressed and dizzy; I'd sat upon a hornet's nest, and
all the birds got busy. My whiskers now are full of hay, my legs are
lame and weary; it's been a-raining every day, and all the world is
dreary. The road will do for those who like a pathway rough and
gritty; I've had enough--just watch me hike back to the good old city.