By Author [ A  B  C  D  E  F  G  H  I  J  K  L  M  N  O  P  Q  R  S  T  U  V  W  X  Y  Z |  Other Symbols ]
  By Title [ A  B  C  D  E  F  G  H  I  J  K  L  M  N  O  P  Q  R  S  T  U  V  W  X  Y  Z |  Other Symbols ]
  By Language
all Classics books content using ISYS

Download this book: [ ASCII ]

Look for this book on Amazon

We have new books nearly every day.
If you would like a news letter once a week or once a month
fill out this form and we will give you a summary of the books for that week or month by email.

´╗┐Title: The Runaway Donkey, and Other Rhymes for Children
Author: Poulsson, Emilie
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "The Runaway Donkey, and Other Rhymes for Children" ***

This book is indexed by ISYS Web Indexing system to allow the reader find any word or number within the document.


    "Whoa, Barney!" shouted Helen,
      When off he dashed, "Whoa, whoa!"
    And both the girls chased after him
      As fast as they could go. (_Page 81_.)

                            RUNAWAY DONKEY
                               AND OTHER
                          RHYMES FOR CHILDREN

                            EMILIE POULSSON

                          STORIES AND RHYMES"

                    _ILLUSTRATED BY L. J. BRIDGMAN_


                    LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD COMPANY

                       Published, August, 1905.

                        _All Rights Reserved._

                         THE RUNAWAY DONKEY.


Several of the rhymed stories in this book are true stories, and
children may enjoy them the more for knowing that Barney, a real
donkey, did run away and play pranks as the rhymes say; that Midget did
ride horseback; that the deer did toss the hay to the hungry pony; and
that Queen Victoria did restore the birds' nesting-place in the old
round tower at Windsor. Pony Rollo, too, is a real character, clever
and lovable, although some liberties have been taken in the portrayal
of him and his doings. Barney Gray is still living, petted by his now
grown-up owners and enjoyed by all children who visit the farm to which
the donkey came about twenty years ago, and a drive with Barney is
quite as likely now as in former days to have unexpected features.

The pictures of Barney and some of the other pets have been drawn by
Mr. Bridgman from photographs taken expressly for this book.

In the belief that such rhymes as are herein offered gratify and
increase in children both the love of animals and the sense of humor,
this new volume is sent forth not only to give pleasure, but to
contribute what it may to the fostering of these desirable traits.

Kindergartners will find here, as in _Through the Farmyard Gate_,
suitable material for kindergarten use; for example, the cumulative
rhyme, _The Pigeons_, and the tracing-back rhyme, _Who Gives us Our
Thanksgiving Dinner?_

For courteous permission to use such of these rhymes as have already
appeared in print, acknowledgments are made to publishers and
periodicals as follows: The Century Company, New York (_St. Nicholas_);
S. E. Cassino, Salem, Massachusetts (_Little Folks_); and Milton
Bradley Co., Springfield, Massachusetts (_Kindergarten Review_).

                                                       EMILIE POULSSON.

      BOSTON, MASS., 1905.



          THE RUNAWAY DONKEY                                           1


                 I. The Pony Needed                                   11

                II. The Pony's Arrival                                14

               III. The Pony's Tricks                                 18

                IV. The Pony Named                                    22

                 V. The Pony and Teddy                                24

                VI. The Pony as Cowboy                                28

               VII. The Check-rein Story                              33

              VIII. Pony Rollo and Little Dog Midget                  37

          THE KINDLY DEER                                             42

          FARM VOICES                                                 46

          "BY FAVOR OF THE QUEEN"                                     48

          THE PIGEONS                                                 52

          THE CHILD AND THE PIGEONS                                   56

          WHO GIVES US OUR THANKSGIVING DINNER?                       57

          CLOTHES                                                     60

          AT THE POND                                                 63

          THE BALLAD OF THE BUMPTIOUS BOY                             67

          THE NOISY RHYME                                             70

          THE DONKEY'S EARS                                           72

          OLD BARNEY'S LATEST PRANK                                   74

                          THE RUNAWAY DONKEY

    A sturdy little donkey,
      All dressed in sober gray,
    Once took it in his long-eared head
      That he would run away.

    So, when a little open
      He saw the stable door,
    He ran as if he never would
      Come back there any more.


    Away that donkey galloped
      And ran and ran and ran
    And ran and ran and ran and ran
      And RAN and RAN and =RAN=!


    Behind him ran the children,
      The groom and coachman, too;
    The farmer and the farmer's man,
      To see what they could do.


    Some carried whips to whip him;
      Some, oats to coax him near;
    Some called, "Come here, you foolish beast!"
      And some, "Come, Barney, dear."

    But not a whit cared Barney
      For cross or coaxing word;
    And clatter, clatter, clatter still,
      His little hoofs were heard.

    And all across the meadow,
      And up and o'er the hill,
    And through the woods and down the dale
      He galloped with a will.

    And into every hay field
      And through the swamp and mire
    Still Barney ran and ran and ran
      As if he'd never tire!

    His chasers all stopped running;
      Then meek as any lamb
    Did Barney stand, as if to say,
      "Come catch me! Here I am."


    But when one of them started,
      Then Barney started too;
    As if the chase had just begun,
      Away he swiftly flew.

    But there's an end to all things,
      And so, the stupid elf,
    When no one else could capture him
      This donkey caught himself.

    For, running in the barnyard,
      He did not calculate
    What consequences would befall,
      And hit the swinging gate.


    It quickly swung together;
      Down dropped the iron latch.
    Oh, Barney Gray, to think that you
      The runaway should catch!


    The children danced with pleasure,
      The groom roared with delight,
    The others smiled their broadest smiles
      Or laughed with all their might.

    But Barney, naughty Barney,
      Had mischief in him still;
    For when the laughing coachman tried
     To lead him up the hill,

    His donkeyship determined
      That he would yet have fun,
    So braced himself and stood stock still
      As if he weighed a ton!

    But mighty was the coachman
      And pulled with such a will
    That Barney soon was being dragged
      Full roughly up the hill.


    "Well, well!" at last thought Barney,
      "The coachman is so strong,
    I might as well be good just now,"
      And so he walked along.

    And when he reached the stable
      And stood within his stall
    You'd scarce believe so meek a beast
      _Could_ run away at all!

    But all the meditations
      Of this meek Barney Gray
    Are only of some future time
      When he may run away.


                           PONY ROLLO RHYMES

                          I. THE PONY NEEDED

    Barney was the children's donkey,
      Full of tricks was he,
    But no beast of sober merits
      More beloved could be.

    Though to tricksy little Barney
      They were loyal yet,
    All the children coaxed and pleaded
      For another pet.

    Yes, they wanted now a pony,
      One which they could ride.
    "Ride on Barney?" that suggestion
      Shows you never tried.

    For with double donkey firmness
      Barney's mind is set
    That he never will be ridden.
      (Never has been yet!)

    Barney has a plan of action,
      Simple, clear, and bold;
    And the fate of would-be riders
      Can be well foretold.

    Puffing, swelling, artful Barney
      Rounds his body out
    Till the strap will scarcely fasten,
      He has grown so stout!

    When at last the girth is buckled
      By the coachman's might,
    Lo! how freely slips the saddle,
      Which was thought so tight.

    Since his trick has made the saddle
      Loose and insecure,
    Barney's face is meek and placid,
      Of success he's sure.

    When the daring would-be rider
      Mounts the donkey's back,
    Barney seems resigned: and starting,
      Trots along till--Whack!

    Tableau--Barney standing pensive
      With a guileless stare.
    In the dust or mud, the rider!
      How did he get there?

    Many riders, big and little,
      Many times have tried;
    No one ever mastered Barney,--
      Ever had a ride.

    And since Barney is so stub--well,
      Firm, at any rate,
    Till a pony comes, the children
      Must for riding wait.


                        II. THE PONY'S ARRIVAL

    "Here's the pony! here's the pony!"
      Fast the tidings flew
    As the longed-for pony trotted
      Up the avenue.

    And the children, such news hearing,
      Quickly gathered near;
    Saw and loved the pretty creature,
      Voted him "a dear."

    "Father! Mother! Come and see him!"
      "Auntie, do come! do!"
    "Hurry, nurse, and let the baby
      See the pony, too."

    "Oh, at last we've got a pony,"
      Cried the children all.
    "Every one must come to see him,
      Call the people! call!"

    From the farm and from the garden,
      From each household nook,
    Men and maids with pleasure hastened
      At the pet to look.


    Close around the gentle pony
      Did the children crowd,
    Patting, stroking, gazing, praising,
      Eager, fond, and proud.

    Near them flocked the grown-up people,
      With admiring eyes.
    For 'twas plain the pretty pony
      Was a wondrous prize.

    Such a shape! and such a color!
      Such a mane and tail!
    Legs so slender, hoofs so dainty,
      Words to picture fail.

    And not only for his beauty
      Did he merit praise,
    But for all his tricks so clever,
      And his gentle ways.

                        III. THE PONY'S TRICKS

    "Shake hands, pony," said the coachman.
      Quickly, at command,
    Pony placed his forefoot gently
      In the coachman's hand.

    "Pony," said the coachman, slowly,
      "I have heard it said
    That you're fond of oats for supper;"
      Pony bowed his head.

    "What! Another trick! Oh, watch him!"
      "Pony, show them now
    How you like to roll and frolic;
      Roll, sir! You know how!"

    Down upon the grass went pony,
      Rolled from side to side.
    And the children watched his capers
      With delight and pride.

    In the stable pony showed them
      He knew one trick more.
    With his nose the latch he lifted
      Of the stable door.


    "Ha, ha!" said the coachman, gayly,
      "I'll look out for you!
    Stable doors by ponies opened?
      That would never do!"

    "Oh! the cunning little fellow!
      How much he does know!"
    Laughed the children, "He's as funny
      As a circus show!"



                          IV. THE PONY NAMED.

    With them all, the pretty pony
      Was the theme for days;
    Parents, children, groom, and coachman
      Joined in words of praise.

    Soon arose the weighty question
      What his name should be,
    And the children long debated
      Ere they could agree.

    "Call him 'Beauty.'" "That's too common!"
      "Merrylegs." "Too long!"
    Gipsy, Bijou, Firefly, Diamond,
      Names in plenty throng.

    But, not suited yet, the children
      One and all discard.
    If the pony were less precious,
      Choice would be less hard!

    But at last they named him "Rollo,"
      Saying, "For you know
    One of his best tricks is rolling,
      And he loves it so."

    And ere long the clever pony
      To the children came
    From the stall or from the pasture
      When they called his name.

                         V. THE PONY AND TEDDY

    Pony Rollo was a beauty,
      As you've heard before,
    But his beautiful behavior
      Made him loved the more.

    When upon his back he carried
      Children large or small,
    With what care went Pony Rollo
      Lest the child should fall.

    Patient, docile Pony Rollo
      Did so well his part
    That the children very quickly
      Gained the rider's art.

    But one day not even Rollo
      Could a fall prevent,
    And the reckless little Teddy
      From the saddle went.

    There he lay beneath the pony,
      All in quaking dread.
    Oh! those heavy hoofs would surely
      On him quickly tread!


    But the knowing little pony,
      Wise as he is good,
    Lifting not a hoof, nor moving,
      Like a statue stood.

    Waiting, waiting, Pony Rollo
      Still as marble kept,
    Till the frightened, grateful Teddy
      From beneath had crept.

    Then was Rollo more than ever
      Feasted and caressed,
    And pronounced of all good ponies
      Wisest, dearest, best.


                        VI. THE PONY AS COWBOY

    Oh! the flurry and the bustle!
      Weeks of seashore joys
    Were in store for all the children.
      "Ready, girls and boys!"

    But the children lingered, lingered
      At the stable door;
    "Good-by, Barney," "Good-by, Rollo,"
      Saying yet once more.

    "Don't forget us, Rollo, Barney,
      We'll come back again!
    And more fun we'll have together,
      Riding, driving then."

    Then to Barney and to Rollo
      Soon there came a change.
    With the absence of the children
      Life seemed new and strange.

    Barney Gray was sent to pasture
      With the lambs and sheep,
    There to run and roll in freedom,
      Kick and prance and leap.

    Still more lonely then was Rollo,
      But he, too, found joy,
    For the care of him was given
      To the farmer's boy.

    In the golden summer weather,
      Happy little Jack
    Drove the cows, from pasture daily,
      On the pony's back.

    Down the road the cattle straggled;--
      If they turned aside,
    Then would Jack with much halloaing
      Toward them quickly ride.

    "There goes Brindle! At her, Rollo!
      Now for Lady Bess!
    There! Good pony! We can keep them
      In the road, I guess!"

    And the pony, clever fellow,
      Learned so well the knack,
    That to drive the cows he scarcely
      Needed help from Jack.

    Let a cow but turn a little
      From the road to stray,
    In an instant Rollo joined her,
      And, as if in play.

    He would push the truant gently
      With his velvet nose,
    Till she yielded to his guiding,
      And the right way chose.

    When the children from the seashore
      Back to Rollo came,
    As a cowboy had their pony
      Won some extra fame.


                       VII. THE CHECK-REIN STORY


    Pony Rollo clattered gayly
      Through the farmyard gate,
    Oh! such news! such news for Dobbin!
      Scarcely could he wait.

    When at last the barn was fastened
      And they were alone,
    Pony Rollo told his story
      In most joyful tone.

    "Oh! this morning as I trotted
      I could plainly hear
    What they said,--my little lady
      And her mother dear.

    "They were talking of the check-rein,
      And at last they said:
    'Pony Rollo need not wear it!'
      Then I tossed my head,

    "And I shook my mane and whinnied.
      'Why, he understands!'
    Said my little lady, laughing.
      Then with her own hands

    "Off she took the check-rein, Dobbin,
      Chatting fast the while.
    'There! you darling Pony Rollo,
      We won't care for style.

    "'You shan't wear the horrid check-rein,
      Little pony mine;
    And we'll both be just as happy
      If we're not so fine.'

    "That I held my head up proudly
      As I tried to show
    All my joy in this new freedom
      You will surely know.

    "And I heard them,--Yes, I heard them
      Say the time was near
    When all check-reins should be banished;
      And,--now you shall hear!--

    "Then they said, old Dobbin's check-rein
      No more would they use!
    There!" said joyful Pony Rollo,
      "Isn't that good news?"


    Boy or girl with horse or pony
      Which you love full well,
    Has he any check-rein story
      Glad as this to tell?



    Midget, little Midget,
      Was the household pet,
    And his pretty cunning ways
      Ne'er can we forget.

    Trotting legs the nimblest,
      Liveliest of tails,
    _Such_ a bark for yelps of joy,
      Or for saddest wails!

    Fluffy little Midget,
      When he quiet lay
    Seemed a bunch of shaded floss,
      Silky, soft, and gray.

    But a whispered "Midget,"
      Or the merest sound,
    And the mop of silken hair
      Life and voice soon found.

    Midget, little Midget,
      Was so bright and quick
    That he learned without delay
      Many a cunning trick.

    Standing up and begging,
      Fetching back a ball;
    Playing dead, but roused to life
      At his master's call.

    Holding tempting morsels
      On his pert black nose;
    From the farmer's field of corn
      Driving off the crows.

    Bringing Father's slippers,
      Jumping high in air,
    Mother's basket carrying
      With a pompous air.

    These and all his other
      Tricks of doggish skill,
    Midget would at any time
      Do with eager will.

    But his pet performance,
      And his greatest pride,
    Was to mount the pony's back,
      There to sit and ride.


    Proudly on the pony
      He would sit in state,
    While good Rollo walked about
      With a step sedate.

    At the signal "Bravo!
      Thank the pony now!"
    Down the little dog would jump
      With a sharp "Bow-wow!"

    Pretty little doggies
      Just of Midget's kind,
    Lively, clever, full of tricks,
      You will often find.

    Which of them is Midget
      You can surely tell
    By this horseback-riding trick
      That he does so well.

                                THE END
                           PONY ROLLO RHYMES

                            THE KINDLY DEER

    Trottety trot! Oh, the ponies prance
      And gayly their little hoofs sound!
    For they caper and frisk as they trot along,
      Away to the tethering ground.

    Stampety stamp! Yes, they must be tied
      Or else they will scamper away;
    For it's "Oh! for a gallop and good free run!"
      These frolicsome ponies would say.

    Trampety tramp! Now the master comes!
      Sweet hay he is bringing to each.
    But there's one hungry pony whose share all goes
      Far out of the poor fellow's reach.

    Pullety pull! How the pony pulls!
      He stretches and tugs, might and main.
    But the hay, every wisp, so far away lies
      That all Pony's tugging is vain.

    Leapety leap! On his four long legs
      Comes bounding a tall stately deer;
    Not a _wild_ deer is he, but the master's pet,
      The ponies' friend, many a year.


    Stridety stride! Then the deer stands still
      And stares with his gentle brown eyes,
    As the poor hungry pony tries, all in vain,
      To reach where the fragrant hay lies.

    Tossety toss! With his great big horns
      The deer begins working away;
    And he tosses and lifts till at Pony's feet
      Is lying the long-wished-for hay!

    Munchety munch! Oh, the hay is sweet!
      And Pony is happy once more;
    And the beautiful deer for his wise, kind deed,
      Is loved more than ever before.

                              FARM VOICES



      Here's the drover with his cattle,
        Clear the way, oh! clear the way!
      Oh! the noisy, noisy creatures,
        Listen now to what they say.
    The cows are lowing "Moo, moo, moo!"
    The sheep are bleating "Baa, baa, baa!"
    The pigs are grunting "Ugh, ugh, ugh!"
    And the donkey, with the long, long ears,
    Says "Hee-haw, hee-haw, hee-haw!"



      Here's the farmer with his poultry,
        Clear the way, oh! clear the way!
      Oh! the noisy, noisy creatures,
        Listen now to what they say.
    The geese are hissing "Sss,--sss,--sss!"
    The hens are calling "Cluck, cluck, cluck!"
    The chickens answer "Peep, peep, peep!"
    And the rooster, with the gay red comb,
    Says "Cock-a-doodle-doo!"



      Everywhere the birds are flying,
        Blithe and gay, oh! blithe and gay.
      Merrily their notes are ringing,
        Listen now to what they say.
    The robins warble "Chirrup, chirrup, chirrup!"
    The sparrows twitter "Tweet, tweet, tweet!"
    The pigeons murmur "Coo, coo, coo!"
    And the bobolink, so full of joy,
    Sings "Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link!"



                        "BY FAVOR OF THE QUEEN"

    Around the walls and towers
      Of Windsor, old and gray,
    The castle where the noble Queen
      Of England loved to stay,
    The birds flit gayly through the air
    In happy freedom everywhere.

    Their nests they build as freely,
      Without a thought of fear,
    In bush or tree, or castle wall,
      All innocently near
    To palace pomp and royalty;
    For birds know naught of high degree.

    The sheltered nooks and crannies
      Left in the tower wall
    Where loosened stones had fallen out,
      The birds loved best of all;
    And, joyful, in each vacant space
    Their little straw-built nests would place.

    Once, when the Queen was absent,
      The royal gardener saw
    The holes that marred the tower wall,
      The hanging bits of straw,
    And ordered all made right in haste--
    The nests destroyed, the stones replaced.

    Then stood the lofty tower
      In orderly array;
    Its crannies snug, its cosey nooks,
      Had vanished quite away;
    And homeless roved the twittering throng
    Once nesting there with happy song.

    But when the royal lady
      To Windsor came again,
    And viewed with fond affection all
      This fair and dear domain,
    The tower's silent, smooth expanse
    Won from her eyes a troubled glance.


    No birds about the tower?
      Their nesting-places filled?
    No more those crannies in the wall
      Where birds had loved to build?
    Such were the questions quick to start
    And stir that tender, queenly heart.

    Straightway, in loving pity
      For all the little birds
    Thus routed, homeless, and forlorn,
      Came her commanding words,
    "The stones must be removed, and then
    Nor birds nor nests disturbed again."

    So, on the great round tower
      Of Windsor, old and gray,
    The palace where the noble Queen
      Of England loved to stay,
    Those nooks and crannies still are seen--
    Bird homes "by favor of the Queen."

    Ah! 'tis by more than birthright
      This good Queen won renown;
    Her deeds of love and mercy shone
      Far brighter than her crown.
    The whole world mourns that good life's end,
    And even the birds have lost a friend.

                      [Illustration: THE PIGEONS]

    These are the eggs so smooth and round
    That held the wonderful secret.


    This is the nest where the eggs were found,
    The pretty white eggs so smooth and round
    That held the wonderful secret.


    This is the pigeon with soft gray breast
    Who patiently sat on the loose straw nest,
    The nest where the pretty white eggs were found,
    Her own little eggs so smooth and round
    That held the wonderful secret.


    This is the pigeon-house safe and high
    (Where never a prowling cat could pry)
    Where lived the pigeon with soft gray breast
    Who patiently sat on the loose straw nest,
    The nest where the pretty white eggs were found,
    Her own little eggs so smooth and round
    That held the wonderful secret.


    This is the barn which the farmer had filled
    With hay and grain from the fields he had tilled:
    The barn near which stood the pigeon-house high
    (Where never a prowling cat could pry)
    Where lived the pigeon with soft gray breast
    Who patiently sat on the loose straw nest,
    The nest where the pretty white eggs were found,
    Her own little eggs so smooth and round
    That held the wonderful secret.


    This is the bin full of corn so good
    (The little gray pigeon's favorite food).
    That was in the barn which the farmer had filled
    With hay and grain from the fields he had tilled;
    The barn near which stood the pigeon-house high
    (Where never a prowling cat could pry)
    Where lived the pigeon with soft gray breast
    Who patiently sat on the loose straw nest,
    The nest where the pretty white eggs were found,
    Her own little eggs so smooth and round
    That held the wonderful secret.


    This is the child so thoughtful and kind
    Who went to the bin the corn to find;
    The bin, full of corn so yellow and good
    (The little gray pigeon's favorite food).
    That was in the barn which the farmer had filled
    With hay and grain from the fields he had tilled;
    The barn near which was the pigeon-house high
    (Where never a prowling cat could pry)
    Where lived the pigeon with soft gray breast
    Who patiently sat on the loose straw nest,
    The nest where the pretty white eggs were found,
    Her own little eggs so smooth and round
    That held the wonderful secret.


    And when the child threw the corn about,
    The little gray pigeon came fluttering out
    From the door of the pigeon-house safe and high,
    And the child heard a faint little cooing cry,--
    A sweet little, wee little murmuring sound;
    For, instead of the eggs so smooth and round,
    (Perhaps the wonderful secret you've guessed)
    Two baby pigeons were in the nest!

                       THE CHILD AND THE PIGEONS


    You dear cooing pigeons,
      How gladly you fly
    O'er hilltop and meadow
      And forest trees high,
    Far, far away roaming;
      --And that too, would I!

    But ever, dear pigeons,
      When night shades the sky
    And home you are coming,
      As gladly you fly
    To meet with your loved ones;
      --And that, too, would I!

    Then, cooing together
      So fondly, you try
    To tell in what pleasures
      The day has passed by,
    Your every joy sharing;
      --And that, too, would I!


    On Thanksgiving Day little Dorothy said,
    With many a nod of her wise, curly head,
    "The cook is as busy as busy can be,
    And very good, too, for 'tis easy to see
      She gives us our Thanksgiving Dinner."



    "Oh, no! little Dorothy," answered the cook,
    "Just think of the trouble your dear mother took
    In planning the dinner and getting for me
    The things that I cook; so, 'tis Mother, you see,
      Who gives us our Thanksgiving Dinner."



    "Of course it is Mother; I ought to have known,"
    Said Dorothy then, in a satisfied tone.
    But Mother said, smiling, "You are not right yet;
    'Tis Father who gives me the money to get
      The things for our Thanksgiving Dinner."

    But Father said: "I earn the money, 'tis true;
    But money alone not a great deal can do.
    The butcher, the grocer, whose things we must buy,
    Should not be forgotten, for they more than I
      Will give us our Thanksgiving Dinner."



    "Oh! isn't it funny?" said Dorothy, then;
    "And now, I suppose, if I asked these two men,
    The grocer, the butcher, about it, they'd say
    It surely is somebody else and not they
      Who gives us our Thanksgiving Dinner."


    And soon little Dorothy heard with delight
    That her guess about grocer and butcher was right.
    The grocer said he only kept in his store
    What miller and farmer had brought in before
      To help for the Thanksgiving Dinner.


    The jolly old butcher laughed long and laughed loud,
    "My Thanksgiving turkeys do make me feel proud,
    And one's for your dinner; but then you must know
    The turkeys are raised by the farmer, and so
      He gives you your Thanksgiving Dinner."

    "Oh, yes! 'tis the farmer; at last I've found out,"
    Said Dorothy, then, with a glad little shout.
    "The miller must go to the farmer for wheat,
    The butcher from him gets the turkeys we eat;
      Yes!--_he_ gives our Thanksgiving Dinner."


    "But yet all the others had something to do;
    The miller and butcher and grocer helped, too.
    And then there was Father and Mother and cook.
    I never before knew how many it took
      To give us our Thanksgiving Dinner."

    So said little Dorothy, full of surprise,
    And feeling that now she had grown very wise.
    But what do you think? Had she found it all out?
    Or was there still more she might learn about
      Who gives us our Thanksgiving Dinner?



    We people wear so many things,
      Almost the whole creation
    It takes our clothing to supply,
      For use or decoration.

    The fishes dress in shining scales
      Of every gorgeous color;
    The birds wear pretty feather suits,
      Some gayer and some duller.

    The cat, the dog, the cow, the horse,
      The squirrel and the rabbit,
    Wear coats of fur; from small to great,
      All have the selfsame habit.


    But people wear so many things!
      Almost the whole creation
    It takes our clothing to supply
      For use or decoration.

    A flannel jacket from the sheep
      Who spared the wool with pleasure:
    And from the silkworm ribbons gay.
      And every silken treasure.


    A dress from off the cotton plant.
      Spun, woven, colored, printed:
    A breastpin made of fishes' scales.
      All delicately tinted.


    Of tortoise-shell my lady's comb.
      And many another notion;
    Her jewels from the mines are brought.
      Her pearls from depths of ocean.


    The golden straws from humble field
      Are plaited for a bonnet,
    The feather-coated ostrich gives
      The plumes we place upon it.


    From tropic trees the milky sap
      Men constantly are getting,
    And making into rubber shoes
      To save our feet a wetting:

    While boots and shoes of every sort,
      Of thick or thinnest leather,
    Are made from skins of animals,
      Tanned, cut, and sewed together.

    Yes, surely, as I said before,
      Almost the whole creation
    It takes our clothing to supply,
      For use or decoration.


                              AT THE POND

    A pretty pond there is, all fringed
      With trees and flowers gay,
    Where many happy creatures live
      And many come to play.


    The fishes frolic merrily
      Within its waters cool,
    And funny little polliwogs
      Live in the shining pool.


    Along the grassy bank the snails
      And turtles slowly creep;
    The frogs go splashing in and out
      With many a sudden leap.


    The insects and the merry birds
      Its shining surface skim;
    And thirsty cows and horses drink
      Along its rippling brim.


    The water lilies' fragrant cups
      Upon the wavelets lie,
    And near them float the stately swans,
      With proud necks curving high.

    And see! here comes the mother duck
      With all her yellow brood;
    And here are all the goslings, too,
      Behind their mother good.

    They hurry, scurry, down the bank
      And in the water go.
    They dive and splash, and with delight
      Go swimming to and fro.

    And when the children call to them
      And throw them bits of bread,
    Geese, ducks, and swans all fearless come
      And crowd near to be fed.

    Oh, yes! the pond's a merry place,
      So busy and so gay,
    Where many happy creatures live
      And many come to play.


    "Those crackers are lighted! Be careful!
      They're going off--_don't_ stand so near!"
    But the Bumptious Boy heeded no warning,
      And this is what happened. O dear!


    "The ice is thin," said the Policeman.
      "I advise you, my lad, not to go."
    But the Bumptious Boy thought _he_ knew better,
      And skated off proudly. And so--


    "Our donkey will not let you ride him--
      He's sure to give you a spill!"
    But the Bumptious Boy only pooh-poohed them,
      And would not believe them until--


    "Look out there! That branch will not hold you!
      Don't try any higher to climb!"
    But the Bumptious Boy laughed and climbed higher:
      That laugh was his last for some time.


    Then during a long convalescence
      The Bumptious Boy thoughtfully thought
    Of the painful misfortunes and troubles
      That he on himself oft had brought.


                    [Illustration: THE NOISY RHYME]

    Oh! the cock was first and he loudly crew,
    And his wings he flapped: "Cock a _doo_dle _doo_!"
    Then the big dog barked with a "Bow-wow-wow!"
    And "Moo-_oo_! Moo-_oo_!" bellowed out the cow.

    And the pigs were as noisy as they could be
    With their "Umph, umph, umph!" and their "Wee, wee, wee!"
    While the lambkins bleated "Ma-_a_! Ma-_a_!"
    And the sheep replied with a "Ba-a-_a_!"

    Then the white geese all, with their necks stretched long
    And their "_S-s-s!_" joined the noisy throng.
    And the sleek old ducks, dressed in green and black,
    Added more noise still as they called "Quack! Quack!"


    "Cut-cut _dah_ cut-cut! Cut-cut _dah_ cut!" cried
    All the hens as they looked at their eggs with pride.
    But "Cluck-_cluck_! Cluck-_cluck_!" called the old black hen
    Till she heard "Peep, peep!" from her chicks again.

    What a noise it was!--from the cock that crew,
    From the dog, the cow, and the piggies, too,
    From the lambs and sheep, from the geese and ducks,
    From the chicks and hens with their peeps and clucks!


    But the baby heard all the sounds with glee.
    The more loud the noise, why! the more pleased he;
    And he clapped and shouted and laughed aloud
    As he heard the noise of the farmyard crowd.

                   [Illustration: THE DONKEY'S EARS]

    Whenever a drive with the donkey I take,
    I see the big V that his slanting ears make,
    And words that begin with a V come to mind,
    Describing his conduct, no matter what kind.



    If Barney is sulky and stubborn and slow,
    Goes poking along or refuses to go,
    Or if he is frisky and capers and kicks,
    Or upsets the cart, or does other bad tricks,
    I say 'tis no wonder he wears a big V,
    So Vexing and Vicious a Villain is he!

    But when the dear fellow, so pretty and strong,
    In meek or gay humor trots nimbly along,
    The V seems to stand for the Virtues he shows,
    The Vim and Velocity with which he goes--
    Our Veteran donkey, more Valued each year,
    The Vigorous, Valiant, Vivacious old dear!



                       OLD BARNEY'S LATEST PRANK

    One sunny winter morning
      The air was crisp and still,
    And snow on snow lay drifted deep
      On every road and hill.

    In cosy stable comfort
      Stood Barney, groomed and fed:
    But wistful thoughts of out-of-doors
      Were in his long-eared head.

    "To be a beast of leisure
      Is elegant, no doubt,"
    Thought Barney, "but it's very dull."
      Just then he heard a shout,

    A battering and banging,--
      Then doors were opened wide,
    And madcap Helen and her chum
      Rushed noisily inside.

    "Where's Barney? Where's the harness?
      And where's the Barney sleigh?
    See, Minna, here's our donkey dear,
      We'll have some fun to-day."

    The donkey soon was harnessed,
      And loud their laughter rang,
    As up into the outgrown sleigh
      The jolly comrades sprang.

    The sleigh-bells jingled gayly,
      And many a compliment
    Did Barney get as o'er the snow
      At steady pace he went.

    "How very good and docile,"
      Said Minna, "Barney is!
    I never thought he'd settle down,
      To be as staid as this!"

    "He does seem tame," said Helen,
      "It's very strange to think
    That he's too old for playing jokes."
      (Here Barney gave a wink.)


    "But what a day for coasting!
      And isn't this a climb?
    Just think how we'll spin down the hill--
      We'll have the gayest time."

    Up, up the hill toiled Barney,
      The long, steep, slipp'ry road;
    The sleigh with those substantial girls
      Was not an easy load.

    At last with tugs and straining
      He reached the very top,
    And Barney to his great delight
      Was here allowed to stop.

    Here, too, he was unharnessed,
      As if to have a rest;
    What work the girls had planned for him
      Old Barney never guessed.

    "He'll follow," said his mistress,
      "He loves to follow so.
    He'll chase right on behind the sleigh,
      As coasting down we go.

    "Then when we're at the bottom--"
      No more did Barney hear.
    They'd let him follow as he liked,
      Enough that this was clear.

    A push--the sleigh went speeding
      Adown the coasting place.
    "Come, Barney! Good old fellow! Come!
      Come on! You like to chase."

    Then nothing loth, old Barney
      Behind the coasters ran.
    Thought he, "For girls and donkey too.
      This is a jolly plan."


    "They knew I'd like this scamper;
      They're kind, I do declare.
    Some children would have coasted down
      And left me tied up there."

    Full soon they reached the bottom,
      The girls and Barney too;
    And Barney learned to his dismay,
      What now he had to do.

    For speedily they hitched him
      Into the sleigh, and then
    "Aha! old Barney," shouted they,
      "Now drag us up again."

    In meekness puzzled Barney
      Submitted to their will.
    Perhaps this time the girls would drive
      Right on beyond the hill.

    With pulling, tugging, straining,
      Once more he reached the top,
    But scarcely long enough to breathe
      Was he allowed to stop.

    The girls with nimble fingers
      Unhitched him from the sleigh;
    "Come, Barney! Follow us again,"
      He heard his mistress say.

    Well, following was pleasant,
      So, when they made a start,
    He scampered after, gay and free,
      With mischief in his heart.

    Yet when they reached the bottom,
      So staid he looked and meek,
    That naught seemed farther from his mind
      Than joke or prank or freak.

    "Oh, this is fun!" said Helen,
      "I'll always coast this way;
    I hate to trudge back up the hill,
      And drag the sled or sleigh."

    "Yes, that's the worst of coasting,
      That tedious uphill climb;
    But Barney saves us all that tug,
      Let's coast a long, long time."

    They meant to harness Barney,
      And start at once uphill;
    But Barney thought the time had come
      His own plan to fulfil.

    So, just before his mistress
      The flying rein could seize,
    Old Barney gave a sudden leap,
      Escaping her with ease.

    "Whoa, Barney!" shouted Helen,
      When off he clashed, "Whoa, whoa!"
    And both the girls chased after him
      As fast as they could go.

    But Barney sped the faster,
      With feet as swift and light,
    As if he had grown young again;
      Soon he was out of sight.

    And as he scampered homeward,
      He thought with gleeful mind
    Of how he'd turned the joke on them,
      The girls he'd left behind.


                                THE END

                          Transcriber's Note:

Italics are indicated by _underscores_.

Bolds are indicated by =equal signs=.

Small capitals have been rendered in full capitals.

A number of minor spelling errors have been corrected without note.

*** End of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "The Runaway Donkey, and Other Rhymes for Children" ***

Doctrine Publishing Corporation provides digitized public domain materials.
Public domain books belong to the public and we are merely their custodians.
This effort is time consuming and expensive, so in order to keep providing
this resource, we have taken steps to prevent abuse by commercial parties,
including placing technical restrictions on automated querying.

We also ask that you:

+ Make non-commercial use of the files We designed Doctrine Publishing
Corporation's ISYS search for use by individuals, and we request that you
use these files for personal, non-commercial purposes.

+ Refrain from automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort
to Doctrine Publishing's system: If you are conducting research on machine
translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a
large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the use of
public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help.

+ Keep it legal -  Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for
ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just because
we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States,
that the work is also in the public domain for users in other countries.
Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we
can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of any specific book is
allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Doctrine Publishing
ISYS search  means it can be used in any manner anywhere in the world.
Copyright infringement liability can be quite severe.

About ISYS® Search Software
Established in 1988, ISYS Search Software is a global supplier of enterprise
search solutions for business and government.  The company's award-winning
software suite offers a broad range of search, navigation and discovery
solutions for desktop search, intranet search, SharePoint search and embedded
search applications.  ISYS has been deployed by thousands of organizations
operating in a variety of industries, including government, legal, law
enforcement, financial services, healthcare and recruitment.