OUR dog is named Nep, and a fine dog is he, A plunge in the sea would be nothing to him.Five miles I would ride such a fine dog to see; We should tire you all, and astonish you too,One better than he surely no one could wish, If we told you of all that our fav'rite can do.He runs like a hare, and he swims like a fish. The short word for Neptune is Nep, as you know,Throw a stick in the lake-he'll soon fetch it out; And we knew it first about two years ago.As a watoh-dbg, his worth no school-boy can doubt., To like those he dislikes, Nep never pretends,O'er broadest of rivers we think he could swim- For dogs are the trusst of FOUR-FOOTED FRIENDS.
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%11 1Here are three ot our friends; they look sheepish we know, But lambs, like ourselves, all grow older each hour.And lambs look more sheepish the older they grow; As lambkins get older, less playful are they,Yet lambs are such gentle and innocent creatures, And children should strive to get wiser each day.We care more for their ways than we do for their features. The boy who cares more for his play than his book,They are pleasant to look at; we wish they were bolder, The older he grows the more sheepish will look,And iould live long and yet not get bigger or older; And for sheepishness, innocence can't make amends,We would keep them young always if we had the power, As it does in the case of our FOUR-FOOTED FRIENDS.
SEE our Tabby There she sits To show that she is getting strong.With nearly half-a-dozen kits! The other white one wants to stealPretty little kittens! they Her jet black brother's pretty reel.Do but little else than play. And kitten number five-well, sheOne, you see, is lapping milk; With Mother Tabby's tail makes free.One unwinds a reel of silk; So now, good folks, our rhyming endsOne a riband drags along, About our six FOUR-FOOTED FRIENDS,
'RISKY and frolicksome, furry and funny, Of food and litter they make a sad jumble.Every one is a favourite bunny, Rabbits, as all the world knows, will be rabbits;Even the little ones come when we call them, Ours are the best of their kind in their habits,The tricks that we play them do not appal them; We know they don't sing, and they're desperate feeders,But if strangers attempt with our rabbits to play, But our does are so plump, and such capital breeders IThey are timid and shy, and scamper away, That carrots, and turnips, and green odds and ends,Over each other they scramble and tumble, We never can grudge to our FOUR-FOOTED FRIENDS.
I 'A0 <OUR pretty goat was born in Wales, From crag to crag, however steep;She and her kids have little tails- We wonder that they do not fall,Their ears are large enough, no doubt- Yet think our Nan would beat them all;Quite large enough to whisk about, For once or twice we saw her jumpTheir hair is long and soft as wool; Three times the height of yonder pump;Their eyes are brilliant, soft, and full, And see how well her kids she tends I-We know that many goats can lean We like our Welsh FOUR-FOOTED FRIENDS,
WITH his fine bushy tail, and his merry bright eyes, Acorns and nuts he would carefully hide.To show he is happy our pet Squirrel tries; Up the oak in our garden he merrily goes,Such a good-tempered fellow, so brimful of glee, And there plainly his fondness for acorns he shows,He plays in his cage just as though he were free, On his hind legs he sits, or as some say, he stands,If he were a wild one, we know that his tail And his fore-paws he cleverly uses like hands IHe would in his bark-boat use as a sail; He munches his acorns although the bough bends;He would, too, in autumn, for winter lrovide He deserves to be classed with our Four-Footed Friends,
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