THE EMPTY LOOSE-BOX.
“And why does that box stand empty,Tho’ the manger is full of hay,And the floor is deep with bedding;O where is the owner pray?”The stud-groom’s face grew sadderAnd he viciously chewed a straw.“That box ’as been standin’ empty,For fifteen years an’ more.Fifteen years last November,Since an ’orse in this box ’as stood,And that ’orse did as brave a thingAs any ’ero could.The ’orse’s name was Snowflake,You can see ’is name over the door;The best ’orse ever I seen, sir,An’ I’ve ’andled many a score.You know our Master ’Arry,’E’s turned eighteen you know;An’ ’e’ll never be nearer death than ’e wasSome fifteen years ago.’Twas the day o’ the point to point races,They was over at Braeburn that year,Twenty mile from our ’ouse to the course, sir,And there wasn’t no railway near.We ’ad taken old Snowflake overTo go in the Lightweight race;The Squire ’e rode ’im ’isself, sir,An’ lor ’e did make the pace.You’d ’a thought he was goin’ four furlongs,Instead of a good four milesOver walls an’ brooks an’ oxersAn’ five barred gates an’ stiles:’Ad it been any other ’orse, sir,’E wouldn’t ’a got ’alf wayAt the orful pace they was goin’,But Snowflake was one to stay.’E sailed past the post at the finish,A street in front o’ the rest,Which wasn’t surprisin’ to me, sir,Knowin’ as ’e was the best.We ’ad just got ’ome that evening,When the nurse runs out an’ cries,“Quick, sir! an’ send for a doctorOr Master ’Arry dies.”The Missis jumps out o’ the dog-cartAn’ runs into the ’ouse with a shriek,The squire ’e turned as pale as deathAn’ seemed as ’e couldn’t speak.“Snowflake’s the fastest we’ve got, sir,”I made so bold to say,“An’ ’e’ll do it if any ’orse can sir,Tho’ ’e ’as done a lot to-day.”“All right,” says the squire, “Jump on ’im,And gallop like ’ell to the town,Gallop to Doctor Jackson’sAn’ tell ’im to come right down.”He kissed old Snowflake’s muzzleAn’ ’e says “God speed old friendIf any ’orse can do itYou’ll be there before the end.You’ll try and save my baby’s life.”Then on to ’is back I leaptAn’ clattered out o’ the stable yard,An’ the squire sat down an’ wept.The ’orse seemed to know what was wanted,An’ he galloped away with a will,Seven long miles of ’ard ’igh roadAnd five o’ them right up ’ill.He was gettin’ weak near the finish,Swayin’ all over the road,An’ I cries, “We must save the kiddy’s life,”An’ ’e ’urried as if ’e knowed.Twenty yards from the doctor’s’E staggered an’ then he fell;I picked myself up and ran on footAn’ tugged at the doctor’s bell.I gave the doctor the message,Told ’im to ’urry of course,’Elped ’im to fettle ’is dog-cartAn’ then I went back to the ’orse.’E was lyin’ just where I left ’im,’E ’adn’t turned ’is’ead—And I sat down ’an cried like a babby,For the grand old ’orse was dead.An’ ’is box ’as been standin’ emptySince ’e ran that last long race,’Cause there isn’t a ’orse in the world, sir,As is worthy to take ’is place.”
“And why does that box stand empty,Tho’ the manger is full of hay,And the floor is deep with bedding;O where is the owner pray?”The stud-groom’s face grew sadderAnd he viciously chewed a straw.“That box ’as been standin’ empty,For fifteen years an’ more.Fifteen years last November,Since an ’orse in this box ’as stood,And that ’orse did as brave a thingAs any ’ero could.The ’orse’s name was Snowflake,You can see ’is name over the door;The best ’orse ever I seen, sir,An’ I’ve ’andled many a score.You know our Master ’Arry,’E’s turned eighteen you know;An’ ’e’ll never be nearer death than ’e wasSome fifteen years ago.’Twas the day o’ the point to point races,They was over at Braeburn that year,Twenty mile from our ’ouse to the course, sir,And there wasn’t no railway near.We ’ad taken old Snowflake overTo go in the Lightweight race;The Squire ’e rode ’im ’isself, sir,An’ lor ’e did make the pace.You’d ’a thought he was goin’ four furlongs,Instead of a good four milesOver walls an’ brooks an’ oxersAn’ five barred gates an’ stiles:’Ad it been any other ’orse, sir,’E wouldn’t ’a got ’alf wayAt the orful pace they was goin’,But Snowflake was one to stay.’E sailed past the post at the finish,A street in front o’ the rest,Which wasn’t surprisin’ to me, sir,Knowin’ as ’e was the best.We ’ad just got ’ome that evening,When the nurse runs out an’ cries,“Quick, sir! an’ send for a doctorOr Master ’Arry dies.”The Missis jumps out o’ the dog-cartAn’ runs into the ’ouse with a shriek,The squire ’e turned as pale as deathAn’ seemed as ’e couldn’t speak.“Snowflake’s the fastest we’ve got, sir,”I made so bold to say,“An’ ’e’ll do it if any ’orse can sir,Tho’ ’e ’as done a lot to-day.”“All right,” says the squire, “Jump on ’im,And gallop like ’ell to the town,Gallop to Doctor Jackson’sAn’ tell ’im to come right down.”He kissed old Snowflake’s muzzleAn’ ’e says “God speed old friendIf any ’orse can do itYou’ll be there before the end.You’ll try and save my baby’s life.”Then on to ’is back I leaptAn’ clattered out o’ the stable yard,An’ the squire sat down an’ wept.The ’orse seemed to know what was wanted,An’ he galloped away with a will,Seven long miles of ’ard ’igh roadAnd five o’ them right up ’ill.He was gettin’ weak near the finish,Swayin’ all over the road,An’ I cries, “We must save the kiddy’s life,”An’ ’e ’urried as if ’e knowed.Twenty yards from the doctor’s’E staggered an’ then he fell;I picked myself up and ran on footAn’ tugged at the doctor’s bell.I gave the doctor the message,Told ’im to ’urry of course,’Elped ’im to fettle ’is dog-cartAn’ then I went back to the ’orse.’E was lyin’ just where I left ’im,’E ’adn’t turned ’is’ead—And I sat down ’an cried like a babby,For the grand old ’orse was dead.An’ ’is box ’as been standin’ emptySince ’e ran that last long race,’Cause there isn’t a ’orse in the world, sir,As is worthy to take ’is place.”
“And why does that box stand empty,Tho’ the manger is full of hay,And the floor is deep with bedding;O where is the owner pray?”
“And why does that box stand empty,
Tho’ the manger is full of hay,
And the floor is deep with bedding;
O where is the owner pray?”
The stud-groom’s face grew sadderAnd he viciously chewed a straw.“That box ’as been standin’ empty,For fifteen years an’ more.
The stud-groom’s face grew sadder
And he viciously chewed a straw.
“That box ’as been standin’ empty,
For fifteen years an’ more.
Fifteen years last November,Since an ’orse in this box ’as stood,And that ’orse did as brave a thingAs any ’ero could.
Fifteen years last November,
Since an ’orse in this box ’as stood,
And that ’orse did as brave a thing
As any ’ero could.
The ’orse’s name was Snowflake,You can see ’is name over the door;The best ’orse ever I seen, sir,An’ I’ve ’andled many a score.
The ’orse’s name was Snowflake,
You can see ’is name over the door;
The best ’orse ever I seen, sir,
An’ I’ve ’andled many a score.
You know our Master ’Arry,’E’s turned eighteen you know;An’ ’e’ll never be nearer death than ’e wasSome fifteen years ago.
You know our Master ’Arry,
’E’s turned eighteen you know;
An’ ’e’ll never be nearer death than ’e was
Some fifteen years ago.
’Twas the day o’ the point to point races,They was over at Braeburn that year,Twenty mile from our ’ouse to the course, sir,And there wasn’t no railway near.
’Twas the day o’ the point to point races,
They was over at Braeburn that year,
Twenty mile from our ’ouse to the course, sir,
And there wasn’t no railway near.
We ’ad taken old Snowflake overTo go in the Lightweight race;The Squire ’e rode ’im ’isself, sir,An’ lor ’e did make the pace.
We ’ad taken old Snowflake over
To go in the Lightweight race;
The Squire ’e rode ’im ’isself, sir,
An’ lor ’e did make the pace.
You’d ’a thought he was goin’ four furlongs,Instead of a good four milesOver walls an’ brooks an’ oxersAn’ five barred gates an’ stiles:
You’d ’a thought he was goin’ four furlongs,
Instead of a good four miles
Over walls an’ brooks an’ oxers
An’ five barred gates an’ stiles:
’Ad it been any other ’orse, sir,’E wouldn’t ’a got ’alf wayAt the orful pace they was goin’,But Snowflake was one to stay.
’Ad it been any other ’orse, sir,
’E wouldn’t ’a got ’alf way
At the orful pace they was goin’,
But Snowflake was one to stay.
’E sailed past the post at the finish,A street in front o’ the rest,Which wasn’t surprisin’ to me, sir,Knowin’ as ’e was the best.
’E sailed past the post at the finish,
A street in front o’ the rest,
Which wasn’t surprisin’ to me, sir,
Knowin’ as ’e was the best.
We ’ad just got ’ome that evening,When the nurse runs out an’ cries,“Quick, sir! an’ send for a doctorOr Master ’Arry dies.”
We ’ad just got ’ome that evening,
When the nurse runs out an’ cries,
“Quick, sir! an’ send for a doctor
Or Master ’Arry dies.”
The Missis jumps out o’ the dog-cartAn’ runs into the ’ouse with a shriek,The squire ’e turned as pale as deathAn’ seemed as ’e couldn’t speak.
The Missis jumps out o’ the dog-cart
An’ runs into the ’ouse with a shriek,
The squire ’e turned as pale as death
An’ seemed as ’e couldn’t speak.
“Snowflake’s the fastest we’ve got, sir,”I made so bold to say,“An’ ’e’ll do it if any ’orse can sir,Tho’ ’e ’as done a lot to-day.”
“Snowflake’s the fastest we’ve got, sir,”
I made so bold to say,
“An’ ’e’ll do it if any ’orse can sir,
Tho’ ’e ’as done a lot to-day.”
“All right,” says the squire, “Jump on ’im,And gallop like ’ell to the town,Gallop to Doctor Jackson’sAn’ tell ’im to come right down.”
“All right,” says the squire, “Jump on ’im,
And gallop like ’ell to the town,
Gallop to Doctor Jackson’s
An’ tell ’im to come right down.”
He kissed old Snowflake’s muzzleAn’ ’e says “God speed old friendIf any ’orse can do itYou’ll be there before the end.
He kissed old Snowflake’s muzzle
An’ ’e says “God speed old friend
If any ’orse can do it
You’ll be there before the end.
You’ll try and save my baby’s life.”Then on to ’is back I leaptAn’ clattered out o’ the stable yard,An’ the squire sat down an’ wept.
You’ll try and save my baby’s life.”
Then on to ’is back I leapt
An’ clattered out o’ the stable yard,
An’ the squire sat down an’ wept.
The ’orse seemed to know what was wanted,An’ he galloped away with a will,Seven long miles of ’ard ’igh roadAnd five o’ them right up ’ill.
The ’orse seemed to know what was wanted,
An’ he galloped away with a will,
Seven long miles of ’ard ’igh road
And five o’ them right up ’ill.
He was gettin’ weak near the finish,Swayin’ all over the road,An’ I cries, “We must save the kiddy’s life,”An’ ’e ’urried as if ’e knowed.
He was gettin’ weak near the finish,
Swayin’ all over the road,
An’ I cries, “We must save the kiddy’s life,”
An’ ’e ’urried as if ’e knowed.
Twenty yards from the doctor’s’E staggered an’ then he fell;I picked myself up and ran on footAn’ tugged at the doctor’s bell.
Twenty yards from the doctor’s
’E staggered an’ then he fell;
I picked myself up and ran on foot
An’ tugged at the doctor’s bell.
I gave the doctor the message,Told ’im to ’urry of course,’Elped ’im to fettle ’is dog-cartAn’ then I went back to the ’orse.
I gave the doctor the message,
Told ’im to ’urry of course,
’Elped ’im to fettle ’is dog-cart
An’ then I went back to the ’orse.
’E was lyin’ just where I left ’im,’E ’adn’t turned ’is’ead—And I sat down ’an cried like a babby,For the grand old ’orse was dead.
’E was lyin’ just where I left ’im,
’E ’adn’t turned ’is’ead—
And I sat down ’an cried like a babby,
For the grand old ’orse was dead.
An’ ’is box ’as been standin’ emptySince ’e ran that last long race,’Cause there isn’t a ’orse in the world, sir,As is worthy to take ’is place.”
An’ ’is box ’as been standin’ empty
Since ’e ran that last long race,
’Cause there isn’t a ’orse in the world, sir,
As is worthy to take ’is place.”
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