Hark! hark! the dogs do bark,
The Beggars are coming to town.
Some in rags & some in jag's
And some in velvet gowns.

I had a little pony
They called it Dapple Gray,
I lent it to a lady
To ride a mile away.
She whipped it, she slashed it,
She drove it through the mire.
I will not lend my pony more,
For all the ladies' hire.

John Smith, fellow fine,
Can you shoe this horse o' mine?
Yes, indeed, and that I can
As well as any man!
There's a nail upon the tae, &c
To make the powny speel the brae;
There's a nail and there's a brod
—a horse weel shod.