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Broadside ballad entitled 'The Carter's Horse'




MY mouth I'll open for the dumb,
My plea is for the meek,
Who suffer by the men they serve,
But suffering, cannot speak.

Of all the tribes of beasts on earth,
The poor, hard-working horse,
I think that I may truly say,
There's none that's used worse.

The carters are as cruel men
As ever I did know;               [smash,
With whips they lash, with sticks they
To make their horses go.

For I have witness been myself,
I sorry am to say,                   [sticks
And seen them smash with strong rack-
Till dead their victims lay.

They to the public-house will go;
And while they're drinking there,
These poor dumb creatures at the door
The heavy load must bear.

'Mong wind and rain, 'mong snow and
The chilling cold they bear;      [sleet,
The men ne'er feel the least for them
While they are drinking there.

For when their heads with drink do reel,
Out to the horse they go;
For one lash that they used to give,
They now will give them two.

Take care, dear friends!?God made those
For man on earth to use;         [beasts
But never in this cruel way
Their service to abuse.

For many that good horses have,
They will not give them meat:
These poor dumb creatures die of want,
That they themselves may treat.

For many a one himself will feed
With meat, and drink, and all;
While his poor starving horses stand
Before an empty stall.

On scarce a single pile of straw
Those beasts they down must lie:
For want of meat and litter too,
No wonder that they die.

Then to the tanner's they do go,
Their skins they off do take;
That is the last of these poor brutes
The task-master can make.

I do not say you're all alike :
Some use their horses well;
But far too many use them ill,
I sorry am to tell.

You carters all! where'er you be,
I'd wish you all to know
That God your thoughts and actions sees,
Wherever you do go.

God made all creatures in this world
That move or breathe therein
To use,? but to abuse them so,
Must be a heinous sin.

Dear friends, beware of what you do,
While life is fleeting past;
For God will call you to account
For all your deeds at last.

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Probable period of publication: 1830-1840   shelfmark: L.C.1268
Broadside ballad entitled 'The Carter's Horse'
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