Three little foals you see at play.They romp and sport all through the day,But sometimes they are most sedateAnd try to ape their mothers’ gait.
They wheel and race and leap and prance,And sometimes they are said to dance:But always they will stand and stareAt anyone who passes there.
The horse, like us, must go to schoolTo learn by precept and by rule.Like us, he does not love the work,Like us, he’s not allowed to shirk.
This little instrument you seeStrapped on his back, shaped like a V,Is a “Dumb Jockey” meant to trainThe horse to bear the bit and rein.
Billy, the circus pony, canDistinguish letters like a man:He’ll hold up for you in the ringHis D for Dunce and K for King.
With P for Pony he will showThat he his family name doth know;And he will find the C for clownAnd at his feet will put it down.
Although this horse is doing all he can to drag his heavy load up the hill, the lazy boy who is walking beside him, with one hand in his pocket, beats him cruelly with the stick which he carries. The boy is too silly or too careless to see how willingly the horse is working.
A horse’s great red-letter daysAre days of hunting, when his waysAre often very wilful. HereSee this John Gilpin in great fear.
He came out just to see the Meet,But the horse thought he would competeWith horses, hounds and fox for place,And led the man this madcap race.
On the prairies in the Far West of America a man lost his way. He had no water to drink, although both he and his horse were parched with thirst. Not knowing where to find water, he cast the reins on the neck of his horse. By means of that wonderful intelligence which some people wrongly call instinct, the horse found his way to a spring, although it was many miles distant. Thus both man and horse were able to quench their thirst, and in this way their lives were saved.
These two are very much dismayedTo see the fuss their horse has madeBecause this dog in playful moodBarked in a manner rather rude.
It is a thing some horses doUntil the driver makes them rueTheir fits of temper. Then they sayThat kicking doesn’t seem to pay.
These big carthorses and these little children are great friends. Although the horses are so big, they are very gentle, and allow the carter’s children to lead them home in the evening, or to ride on their backs.
Peggy is the children’s pride,And she allows them all to ride.She comes to them whene’er they call,And loves to have them in her stall.
With others she has wilful ways.She will be cross with John for days,Will kick and squeal, will show much spite,And very often try to bite.
These three horses are ploughing an upland field. They are thoroughly enjoying themselves, for they are so strong that their work is a pleasure to them. The ploughman is guiding the plough, so as to keep the furrows straight. The rooks are soaring round in search of grubs found in the earth which is turned up by the plough....