Winnie
Winnie
When I went by the meadow gate
The chestnut mare would trot to meet me,
And as her coming I would wait,
She’d whinney high as if to greet me.
And I would kiss her silky nose,
And stroke her neck until it glistened,
And speak soft words: I don’t suppose
She understand —but how she listened!
Then in the war—net I was caught,
Returning three black winters older;
And when the little mare I sought
The farmer told me he had sold her.
And so time passed —when in the street
One day I heard a plaintive whinney
That roused a recollection sweet,
So then I turned and there was Winnie.
I vow she knew me, mooning there.
She raised her nose for me to fondle,
And though I’d lost an arm I’ll swear
She kissed the empty sleeve a—dangle.
But oh it cut me to the heart,
Though I was awful glad to meet her,
For lo! she dragged a tinker’s cart
And stumbled weakly as he beat her.
Just skin and bone, a sorry hack!
Say, fellow, you may think it funny:
I made a deal and bought her back,
Though it took all my bonus money.
And she’ll be in the meadow there,
As long as I have dough for spending . . .
Gee! I’ll take care of that old mare —
“Sweetheart! you’ll have a happy ending.”
Other works by Robert W. Service...
