DOBBIN has a little friend,
Spotted white and sable;
Every day she goes to him
In his lonely stable.
Not a mite of dread has she,
Not a thought of danger;
Lightly runs between his hoofs,
Jumps upon his manger.
Lays her soft, warm cheek to his,
Purrs her meek "Good-morning!"
Gives the flies that hover near
such a look of warning!