Winnie

 When I went by the meadow gate
The chestnut mare would trot to meet me,
And as her coming I would wait,
She'd whinney high as if to greet me.

And I would kiss her silky nose,
And stroke her neck until it glistened,
And speak soft words: I don't suppose
She understand - but how she listened!

Then in the war-net I was caught,
Returning three black winters older;
And when the little mare I sought
The farmer told me he had sold her.

And so time passed - when in the street
One day I heard a plaintive whinney
That roused a recollection sweet,
So then I turned and there was Winnie.


I vow she knew me, mooning there.

She raised her nose for me to fondle,
And though I'd lost an arm I'll swear
She kissed the empty sleeve a-dangle.

But oh it cut me to the heart,
Though I was awful glad to meet her,
For lo! she dragged a tinker's cart
And stumbled weakly as he beat her.


Just skin and bone, a sorry hack!
Say, fellow, you may think it funny:

I made a deal and bought her back,

Though it took all my bonus money.

And she'll be in the meadow there,
As long as I have dough for spending .
 .
 .

Gee! I'll take care of that old mare -
"Sweetheart! you'll have a happy ending.
"

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