Page:Journal of American Folklore vol. 12.djvu/264

Her father then answered young Johnny with speed;
"I thought you had courted my daughter indeed,
And not the gray mare; but since it is thus,
My money once more I 'll put into my purse,
And as for the bargain, I vow and declare
I 'll keep both my daughter and Tid the gray mare."

The money then vanishèd out of his sight,
And so did fair Katie, his joy and delight,
And he like a woodchuck was turned out of doors (door),
Forbidden by them to come there any more.
Now Johnny began his locks for to tear,
And he wished that he 'd never stood out for the mare.

About a year after, or little above,
He chancèd to meet with Miss Katie, his love.
Said he, "My dear Katie, do not you know me?"
"If I mistake not, I have seen you," said she,
"Or one of your likeness, with long yellow hair,
That once came a-courting to father's gray mare."

"'Twas not to the mare a-courting I came,
But only to you, my love, Katie by name,
Not thinking your father would make a dispute,
But giving with Katie the gray mare to boot;
But rather than lose such a dutiful son,—
Well, it's over,—and I'm sorry for what I have done."

"Your sorrow," says Katie, "I value it not,
There are young men enough in this world to be got,
And surely that gal must be at her last prayer,
Who would marry a man that once courted a mare.
And as for the prize, I think it not great,
So fare you well, Johnny; go mourn for your fate."^[1]

"Mr. A, friend B is sick,
Call the doctor and be quick."
The doctor comes with right good will,
And never forgets his calomel.

He takes his patient by the hand,
Compliments him as a man,
Sets him down his pulse to feel,
And then deals out his calomel.