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Tale of a Pony.
The cynosure of every eye—
Saw to her horror the off-mare shy—
Flourish her tail so exceeding high
That, disregarding the closest tie,
And without giving a reason why,
She flung that tail so free and frisky,
Off in the face of Caskowhisky!
Excuses, blushes, smiles: in fine,
End of the pony's tail, and mine!
