Viii. Pony Rollo And Little Dog Midget

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 OF PONY ROLLO RHYMES