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."