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I may, without offence, pretend

To take the freedom of a friend.

Love calls me hence; a fav'rite cow

Expects me near yon barley-mow;

And when a lady's in the case

You know all other things give place,

To leave you thus might seem unkind;

But see, the goat is just behind."

The goat remark'd her pulse was high,

Her languid head, her heavy eye;

"My back," says he, "may do you harm;

The sheep's at hand, and wool is warm."

The sheep was feeble, and complain'd

His sides a load of wool sustain'd:

Said he was slow, confess'd his fears,

For hounds eat sheep as well as hares.

She now the trotting calf address'd,

To save from death a friend distress'd,

"Shall I," says he, "of tender age,

In this important care engage?

Older and abler pass'd you by;

How strong are those! how weak am I!

Should I presume to bear you hence,

Those friends of mine may take offence.

Excuse me, then. You know my heart,

But dearest friends, alas! must part.

How shall we all lament! Adieu!

For see, the hounds are just in view."

(John Gay.)