Page:Lost Galleon (1867).djvu/36

34 The cynosure of every eye—

Saw to her horror the off-mare shy—

Flourish her tail so exceeding high

That, disregarding the closest tie,

And without giving a reason why,

She flung that tail so free and frisky,

Off in the face of Caskowhisky!

Excuses, blushes, smiles: in fine,

End of the pony's tail, and mine!