Classic Poem

You educated folk, no doubt,
At spinning yarns are bosses;
Well, for some trade each man is made,
I'm number one at hosses.
I'm known o'er all the township, sir,
By hired hand and boss;
As I go by the children cry,
“There goes the great Old Hoss!”

I often wonder—and to know
I'm really at a loss—
What kind o' soul a man can have
That doesn't love a hoss.
I love the critters ev'ry one,
And that's the way, you see,
That ev'ry critter 'neath the sun
A likin' has for me.

If ever I gets badly riled,
If ever I gets cross,
'Tis when I see brutality
Inflicted on a hoss.
They knows it, too, as well as you;
And ev'ry hoss I meet,
Lor' bless your heart! it nods to me
As I goes down the street.

A hoss, sir, has ideas, sir!
And if you truly love him,
And educate him as you ought,
You'll make a Christian of him.
A hoss, sir, will be good or bad—
Its all in how you break him—
He'll be a Christian or a brute,
Just as you've sense to make him.

For, be we either man or hoss,
We've all some inborn sin;
And what is Christianity
But just a breakin' in?
Now, I gives all my hosses, sir,
A Christian edication;
And nar a one but has some sense
Of moral obligation.

He knows a man that is a man,
And feels that he's his master;
Detects a knave or coward slave—
No woman does it faster!
He hates them blusterin' bullies, sir,
Them fellers that are gross;
Be good yourself, if you would be
Respected by a hoss!

No doubt, at times, as 'mong ourselves,
You'll come across a fool;
He'll try your temper fearfully,
But you must just keep cool.
I've had some heart-breaks in my time—
Some awful stupid asses!
To make them moral animals
All human skill surpasses.

For you may treat them as you may,
They're crooked as a fence.
In man or hoss, the want of wants
Is want of common-sense!
But really in a common way
I'm very seldom beat;
And, as I say, I'm thank'd each day,
When walking down the street.