Three Companions

WE go on our way together, Baby, and dog, and I; Three merry companions, 'Neath any sort of sky; Blue as her pretty eyes are, Or gray, like his dear old tail; Be it windy, or cloudy, or stormy, Our courage does never fail.

Sometimes the snow lies thickly, Under the hedge-row bleak; Then baby cries "Pretty, pretty," The only word she can speak. Sometimes two rivers of water Run down the muddy lane; Then dog leaps backwards and forwards Barking with might and main.

Baby's a little lady, Dog is a gentleman brave: If he had two legs as you have He'd kneel to her like a slave; As it is he loves and protects her, As dog and gentleman can; I'd rather be a kind doggie I think, than a brute of a man.