THE TALE OF A PONY.

I BOUGHT a horse the other day,

The gay De Sever sold it;

And sold me too, for he called it Gray,

But read I now behold it.

It proved to me a useful horse, -

More Bohn than flesh about it, -

For it pulled me through a very hard course;

I had been left without it.

The trouble was because my head,

Though flat, is never level;

Each day I was dazed by what I read,

And every eve brought evil.

The thought of being plucked, you know,

Had made all my pluck fast fly;

And I'd burned the midnight gas so low

That my face was looking ghastly.

The college lawn looked all forlorn,

For heavy dues were plenty;

I went where I always feel most gone,

To Harvard No. 20.

What I had learned by rote, I wrote;

The rest I thought I'd doctor;

So I tried to pass a very small note,

Which didn't get by the proctor.

Alas! the proctor's tramping soon

Set my poor head a whirring;

That fellow must have been a spoon,

For he seemed made for stirring.

My dreadful task at last was done,

I'm told I did not fail, now;

My pony won me '81,

So I'll cut short its tale now.

I'd got quite hoarse with crying "Woe!"

My wrinkles were increasing;

So I took this "trot" for the "little go,"

And my sheepskin saved from fleecing.

My Greek had been all Greek to me

Until I got my pony;

When lo! the words came easily, -

No longer hard, though Bohny.

And yet the ground o'er which I ground

Made time and trotter fly, sir;

And as time ran out I very soon found

The Greek and I were dry, sir.

The task thus brought me to my beer,

Such efforts were so trying;

And "setting up" I found was here

Much easier than lying.

I worked on till I was worked up,

My brain was sore with soaring;

I felt run down, so I just ran up

To bed, and soon was snoring.

The morning came to break my snooze,

It was the break of day, sir;

I got right up, for I'm not a goose,

So pray, why should I lay, sir.