The Pearl/Volume 7/Ode.

By the Rev. Mr. Bray, on the Death of his favourite Donkey

How well do I remember yet How very proud I used to get When, like a little king, I'd sit, Upon my Ass!

When seated in his nice warm back My tiny, little whip I'd crack, And with my youthful hand I'd smack My Ass!

And when we galloped o'er the lea I shouted with delight and glee, For all the girls came out to see My Ass!

With him my frugal meals I'd share And nurture him with greatest cafe, And dally with the long, soft hair Upon my Ass!

In meadows green he'd love to play And, when tired out, at close of day, You then, of sweet delicious hay, Could smell my Ass!

And when through dirty lanes we'd scud And get bespattered o'er with mud, I'd get some water when I could. And wash my Ass!

But someone served him such a trick- At first they hit him with a stick, And then with heavy boots did kick My Ass!

One day he got beyond my reach, Into a pond, I gave a screech, For a blood-thirsty, hungry leech Did suck my Ass!

And oh! his fate I do bewail, He backed one day against a rail, And a long, pointed, rusty nail Stuck in my Ass!

Alas his end I soon did see; A woodman cutting down a tree, Did slip, and, barely missing me, Did axe my Ass!

I saw him die, I watched the gore Run from the wound as home they bore My dearest friend - my wounded, sore, And bloody Ass!

My grief for him was most sincere, The pain was more than I could bear, So now, kind friend, come shed a tear Upon my Ass!

Perhaps this epitaph is odd- "A better donkey never trod, Here lies beneath this friendly sod, My Ass!"