Don't ask me to tell how I'm bred, sir;
Put my "pedigree" down as "unknown,"
But a good 'un to go when he's "wanted,"
From whatever dam he was thrown.
Old Joshua--he's been my mother
And father all rolled into one;--
It was 'im as bred and trained me;
Got me "ready" and "fit" to run.
It's been whispered he saved my life, sir--
Picked me up one winter's night,
Wrapped up in a shawl or summat,--
The tale's like enough to be right.
It's just what he would do,--bless 'im!
Yes, I owed every atom to him:
So you'll guess how I felt that mornin',
When, with eyes all wet and dim,
He told me the new folk would give 'im
But two weeks to pay his arrears;
Then he cried like a little child, sir.
When I saw the old fellow's tears,
My young blood boiled madly within me;
I knew how he'd struggled and fought
'Gainst years of bad seasons and harvests;
How nobly but vainly he'd sought
To make both ends meet at the "Whitelands."
"They never will do it!" I cry.
"You've lived all your life at the 'Farm,' Josh,
And you'll still live on there till you die!
'Tain't for me to tell stable secrets,
But I know--well, just what I know:
Go! say that in less than a month, Josh,
You'll pay every penny you owe.
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