Jimmy and Alice and I one day,
Were filled with a sudden pride;
No more would we walk on the Shining Way,
’Twas pleasanter, far, to ride.
For Billy, the old white horse, was there,
He could easily carry three,
And on his back we would gaily fare
To the shores of the Sunset Sea.
So up to the orchard fence we tripped,
And Billy looked kind and mild,
And on to his back we softly slipped,
And Billy, he sort of smiled.
I sat in the middle and clung to Jim,
And Alice was out by the tail;
And “Get up, Billy!” we said to him,
And away we went in a gale.
But we never got to the Sunset Sea,
With its fiery waves aglow,
For we didn’t count on the old plum-tree,
And Billy, he did, you know.
Oh, Billy looked kind and mild enough,
But a plot in his heart did hide;
He knew that the plum-tree bark was rough,
And the branches were low and wide.
So straight for the tree old Billy steered,
And vainly we shouted “Whoa!”
His mind was fixed, and he never veered
From the path where he meant to go.
Under the tree he firmly trod,
(’Twas just high enough for him,)
And we went tumbling on the sod.
Scraped off by a scraggly limb.
No more we rode on the Shining Way;
We were bruised, and our thoughts were sad;
While Billy winked, as he looked our way;
And his wink was knowing and bad.