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Dappledun by Phoebe Cary


by Phoebe Cary

A little boy who, strange to say, 

Was called by the name of John, 

Once bought himself a little horse 

To ride behind, and upon. 

A handsomer beast you never saw, 

He was so sleek and fat; 

He has but a single fault," said John, 

"And a trifling one at that" 

His mane and tail grew thick and long, 

He was quick to trot or run; 

His coat was yellow, flecked with 


John called him Dappledun. 

He never kicked and never bit; 

In harness well he drew ; 

But this was the single foolish thing 

That Dappledun would do. 

He ran in clover up to his knees, 

His trough was filled with stuff; 

Yet he'd jump the neighbor's fence, 

and act As if he hadn't enough. 

If he only could have been content 

With his feed of oats and hay, 

Poor headstrong, foolish Dappledun 

Had been alive to-day. 

But one night when his rack was filled 

With what he ought to eat, 

He thrust his nose out of his stall, 

And into a bin of wheat 

And there he ate, and ate, and ate, 

And when he reached the tank 

Where Johnny watered him next morn, 

He drank, and drank, and drank. 

And when that night John carried him 

The sweet hay from the rick, 

He lay and groaned, and groaned, and 

groaned, For Dappledun was sick. 

And when another morning came 

And John rose from his bed 

And went to water Dappledun, 

Poor Dappledun was dead !