184
And Betty's standing at the door,
And Betty's face with joy o'erflows,
Proud of herself, and proud of him,
She sees him in his travelling trim;
How quietly her Johnny goes.
The silence of her Idiot Boy,
What hopes it sends to Betty's heart!
He's at the Guide-post—he turns right,
She watches till he's out of sight,
And Betty will not then depart.
Burr, burr—now Johnny's lips they burr,
As loud as any mill, or near it;
Meek as a lamb the Pony moves,
And Johnny makes the noise he loves,
And Betty listens, glad to hear it.
Away she hies to Susan Gale:
And Johnny's in a merry tune;
The Owlets hoot, the Owlets curr,
And Johnny's lips they burr, burr, burr,—
And on he goes beneath the Moon.
