_I find with surprise that I'm constantly sneezing; I'm stiff in the legs, and I'm often for sale; And the blue-bottle flies, with their tiresome teasing, Are quite out of reach of my weary old tail._ "By the way," said Ribsy, getting up and turning himself around, "what does my tail look like?" "I think," said Davy, after a careful inspection, "I think it looks something like an old paint-brush." "So I supposed," said Ribsy, gloomily, and, sitting down again, he went on with his history:-- _As spry as a kid and as trim as a spider Was I in the days of the Turnip-top Hunt, When I used to get rid of the weight of my rider And canter contentedly in at the front._ _I never was told that this jocular feature Of mine was a trick reprehensibly rude, And yet I was sold, like a commonplace creature, To work in a circus for lodgings and food._ "I suppose you have never been a circus-horse?" said Ribsy, stopping short in his verses again and gazing inquiringly at Davy. "Never," said Davy. "Then you don't know anything about it," said Ribsy. "Here we go again:"-- _Pray why, if you please, should a capable charger Perform on a ladder and prance in a show? And why should his knees be made thicker and larger By teaching him tricks that he'd rather not know?_ _Oh! why should a horse, for society fitted, Be doomed to employment so utterly bad, And why should a coarse-looking man be permitted To dance on his back on a top-heavy pad?_ Here Ribsy paused once more, and Davy, feeling that he ought to make some sort of an answer to such a lot of questions, said helplessly, "I don't know." "No more do I," said Ribsy, tossing his head scornfully. _It made me a wreck, with no hope of improvement, Too feeble to race with an invalid crab; I'm wry in the neck, with a rickety movement Peculiarly suited for drawing a cab._ _They pinch me with straps, and they bruise me with buckles, They drive me too rapidly over the stones;-- A reason, perhaps, why a number of knuckles Have lately appeared on my prominent bones._ "I see them," cried Davy, eagerly; "I thought they were corns." "Thank you," said Ribsy, haughtily. "As the next verse is the last you needn't trouble yourself to make any further observations." _I dream of a spot which I used to roam over In infancy's days, with a frolicsome skip, Content with my lot, which was planted with clover, And never annoyed by the crack of a whip._ _But I think my remarks will determine the question, Of why I am bony and thin as a rail; I'm off for some larks, to improve my digestion, And point the stern moral conveyed by my tail._