Tèma Con Variazióni

I never loved a dear Gazelle—Nor anything that cost me much:High prices profit those who sell,But why should I be fond of such?

To glad me with his soft black eyeMy son comes trotting home from school;He's had a fight, but can't tell why—He always was a little fool!

But, when he came to know me well,He kicked me out, her testy Sire:And when I stained my hair, that Belle,Might note the change, and thus admire

And love me, it was sure to dyeA muddy green or staring blue:Whilst one might trace, with half an eye,The still triumphant carrot through.