He plays with other boys when work is done, But feels too clumsy and too stiff to run, Yet where there`s mischief he can find a way The first to join and last [to run] away. What`s said or done he never hears or minds But gets his pence for all the eggs he finds. He thinks his master`s horses far the best, And always labours longer than the rest. In frost and cold though lame he`s forced to go-- The call`s more urgent when he journeys slow. In surly speed he helps the maids by force And feeds the cows and hallos till he`s hoarse; And when he`s lame they only jest and play And bid him throw his kiby heels away.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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