Said, "Have courage, young lady!
Pray cease your alarm;
Cows never will hurt you,
If you do them no harm."

IX.

Now the baby he prattled,
And begged for a ride;
He clapped his hands loudly,
And "Come, Mooly!" he cried;

X.

"Let me ride on your back
O'er the green fields so bright,
Where the busy bees hum--
_Dear Mooly_, you _might_.

XI.

"We'll ride o'er the hills
Where the lofty pines grow,
And through the green lanes
Of hawthorn we'll go;

XII.

"We'll ride through the groves
Where the happy birds play,