Nursery Rhyme. LXXIX. Tales.

Moss was a little man, and a little mare did buy,
For kicking and for sprawling none her could come nigh;
She could trot, she could amble, and could canter here and there,
But one night she strayed away - so Moss lost his mare.
Moss got up next morning to catch her fast asleep,
And round about the frosty fields so nimbly he did creep.
Dead in a ditch he found her, and glad to find her there,
So I'll tell you by and bye, how Moss caught his mare.
Rise! stupid, rise! he thus to her did say;
Arise, you beast, you drowsy beast, get up without delay,
For I must ride you to the town, so don't lie sleeping there;
He put the halter round her neck - so Moss caught his mare.