So Dobbin and Brindle, and fat Mrs. Ewe,
And the duckling and duck, and the Biddy-hen too,
All eager for knowledge, went down the wide road
To the kennel where Tray had his pleasant abode.

Now Tray was a dog with a gift for detecting,
He never would bark without briefly reflecting;
He snuffed at the treasure and turned it about,
And soon would have uttered his sentence, no doubt,--

But just then our Tommy ran up to the crowd.
"Where did you get those, sir?" he cried out aloud.
"They're my new Sunday gloves! They fell out of my hat!
I took them to school to show them to Matt!

"And, you see, Matt and I had some liquorice candy,
Our fingers were sticky, the gloves were just handy;
And then, when the teacher said, 'Tom, wash your slate,'
My sponge was all lost, and the class couldn't wait.

"And 'cause I was hurrying, what do you think?
That bothersome ink-bottle slopped out the ink!
You can't expect gloves to look nobby and new
When they have to be used for a slate and ink too.

Now, that's reasons enough!" said poor Tommy, "I guess!"
And the company bowed a unanimous "Yes,"
And the horse, cow and sheep, duck, duckling and hen,
Complacently turned themselves homeward again.