The Boy Lives On Our Farm

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The boy lives on our Farm, he's not
  Afeard o' horses none!
An' he can make 'em lope, er trot,
  Er rack, er pace, er run.
Sometimes he drives two horses, when
  He comes to town an' brings
A wagon-full o' 'taters nen,
  An' roastin'-ears an' things.

Two horses is "a team," he says,
  An' when you drive er hitch,
The right-un's a "near-horse," I guess
  Er "off"--I don't know which--
The Boy lives on our Farm, he told
  Me, too, 'at he can see,
By lookin' at their teeth, how old
  A horse is, to a T!

I'd be the gladdest boy alive
  Ef I knowed much as that,
An' could stand up like him an' drive,
  An' ist push back my hat,
Like he comes skallyhootin' through
  Our alley, with one arm
A-wavin' Fare-ye-well! to you--
  The Boy lives on our Farm!

© James Whitcomb Riley