' Mammy, mammy !' the wee girl cried ;
The mother dropped a plate
And hurried o'er the farmyard wide,
And stood at the open gate.
Dolly was there but not alone,
For surely there 's something droll,
She stoops her head with cough and moan
As Dolly kisses her foal.
' Mammy, mammy ! it cannot rise
Oh, let 's help it, mammy, please.'
Gladness dances in Dolly's eyes
As they help it to its knees ;
She seems to know what all this means,
Each eye is a brimful ' thank,'
As the wee colt, all astonished, leans
'Gainst the old mare's quiveringjflank.
Robert Kirkland Kernighan